


The Uncertainty Principle

by AnotherSpoonyBard



Series: Chaos Theory [7]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Hell Verse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chaos Theory AU, Character Study, Even geniuses get it wrong sometimes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-25 12:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSpoonyBard/pseuds/AnotherSpoonyBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In quantum mechanics, the uncertainty principle is any of a variety of mathematical inequalities asserting a fundamental limit to the precision with which certain pairs of physical properties of a particle—complimentary variables—can be known.</p><p>Kisuke Urahara has spent more than one human lifetime focusing almost entirely on the big picture. His mind is a network of entailments and connections and possibility. But as he draws closer to understanding one thing, he sometimes finds himself with dwindling grasp on another. Comprehension is not merely knowledge, and it is never unbounded. Sometimes, what he inadvertently loses his grip on is something he should not have let go. </p><p>In which someone strikes Urahara where it hurts the most—his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the _Chaos Theory_ AU. Like the other works in the series, it's best understood after reading at least _The Butterfly Effect_ and _The Three-Body Problem_. It contains my revisionary take on _Bleach: The Hell Verse_ , which was a movie with a surprising amount of potential that imho kinda went to waste. I'm changing it... well, a lot.
> 
> Be advised that some of the descriptions herein may be somewhat disturbing. It is, after all, Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born  
> abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a  
> misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is  
> death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create,  
> create—so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something  
> of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By  
> some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. 
> 
> ― Pearl S. Buck

The ground beneath his feet had the consistency of sand, or thereabouts; he’d have to study it a little more closely to be certain, but he suspected it was made primarily of crushed bones. 

Had it been created thus, or was there some layer of something else beneath? Did Hell have soil horizons? Bedrock? He had the means to find out; what he lacked, really, was the opportunity. 

Kisuke was aware that the Togabito in front of him were still speaking, but he took in their words only distantly. Conversation wasn’t really a drain on his intellectual resources; he rarely wasted much more energy on it than strictly necessary. They were only trying to manipulate him into doing something for them in return for the information he wanted, anyway. As he had no intention of breaking any chains, theirs or otherwise, it was much more productive to let them exhaust themselves laying out their case, and spend the time doing other things. 

He shouldn’t be worrying about the sediment though; there were too many other things to occupy him before that would have any kind of priority. That was the worst thing about wars, honestly—so much effort went into winning them. If _winning_ was really an applicable word. Kisuke tended to think of it as _losing less badly_ than whoever else was involved. 

The essence of victory really came down in cases like this to nothing but _planning better_ ; that came down to some combination of _knowing more_ and _being smarter_ , which most people conflated. 

Most people were not capable of the requisite combination, unsurprisingly. 

“Will you do it?”

Ah. Something in need of an answer. Kisuke smiled, the left side of his mouth lifting higher than the right. From the shade of his hat, he fixed his eyes on the leader. Not the one in the front, doing most of the talking—the one nearer the back, who hadn’t stopped staring at him the whole time. The only one who might have noticed that the majority of his attention had been elsewhere for the duration. 

“I’m not really in the habit of giving something for nothing,” he replied in the sly tone he knew they’d hate. 

The one in the front bristled. “What do you mean, _nothing_? If you free us, we’ll give you all the information you need.”

“See, I think we’re having a misunderstanding, here,” Kisuke continued blithely. “You’re under the impression that I believe you, which I don’t. What we both know, actually, is that you don’t have what I’m looking for. So, if you don’t mind, I think I’m just going to wander around for a while.”

“Why you—” One of the others didn’t seem inclined to talk so much as attack. But that was fine—it might actually end things faster. 

He surged forward, tentacles emerging from under his ratty black robe and rushing at Kisuke. 

There were so many one-liners to be had. Unfortunately, his wit was completely wasted on these people. Sighing, Kisuke drew Benihime from his cane in a lazy motion, flicking the blade in a sharp arc that sliced directly through the left-side tentacle. The right one was trying to wrap around him from behind. 

“I don’t think we’ve quite reached the hug-it-out point in our relationship,” he quipped. 

Keeping himself planted on the ground, Kisuke caught the incoming tentacle and lashed with his arm, the momentum passing through the connection and lifting the Togabito from his feet. He slammed sideways into one of the others, who’d only just decided to enter the fight. Really. That was a pretty slow decision, even for one of them. 

He let go of the tentacle and sighed, arching an eyebrow at the other two—the leader and the girthy one. “We can dance, if you really want to, but you’re smart enough to know how this ends. So I’m going to back through those gates, close them behind me—and then we’re all going to act like this never happened, all right?” 

His hospitable smile was met with silence, but none of them attacked again, so he did as he’d said. Getting back up to the gates wasn’t really a problem with _shunpō_. When he stepped through them into his basement, they closed behind him; he re-sealed them with kidō, but did not banish them. 

He still, after all, needed that information. Togabito weren’t able to exit the gates, but it was better for the living world if he didn’t leave them hanging open for too long. Sheathing Benihime, he frowned at the slime on his free hand. Well, at least he could take a culture of it—it might go some way to confirming some hypotheses he had about the Togabito in general.

* * *

The living room was quiet. Tessai and the kids had left after dinner concluded a few minutes ago—leaving Kisuke and Yoruichi. She was presently cat-shaped, which she knew amused him. 

“You went into Hell again.” It wasn’t a question. 

He didn’t treat it like one. Draining the remnants of his teacup, Kisuke set it down on the table. “Just the first level, still. I’ll have to go further if I want the answers.” He tapped his fingers on his knee.

Yoruichi had some idea of the way his mind worked, though she couldn’t pretend she understood it completely. What she _did_ know was that the particular look on his face now meant he’d gone somewhere she could not follow. He had always been like that—though it had been worse when they were kids. Before he’d had anything else but his thoughts.

Without the right kind of face to frown, Yoruichi channeled her displeasure into lashing her tail. “I don’t like this idea, Kisuke. We’re meddling in things we don’t fully understand.”

His eyes, deeply into the middle distance, cleared at the sound of her voice. He blinked at her, tipping his head back. “Yet,” he replied. 

With him, that word carried weight. 

But that didn’t mean she had to like this. “But _Hell_? You’re sure we can’t do this some other way?” 

He half-smiled at her, an almost-perplexed look on his face. “Of course I’m not sure. That’s why I’m looking into everything—you know that.” 

Yoruichi hopped up onto the table, padding over to the edge of it to sit directly in front of him. When she looked up at his face from this angle, the attempts he made to conceal his eyes were moot. “What are you really doing?” she asked quietly. “This isn’t just about binding kidō.” 

He took one of his hands from inside the opposite sleeve and laid it on her head. Calloused fingertips wrapped around behind her ears—Yoruichi leaned into the touch. No matter how much practice she had being a cat, some things about it would just never resemble being humanoid. 

“No,” he confessed. “It isn’t.”

Yoruichi had noticed long ago that there was a specific range of tones he reserved for use when he wasn’t pretending. One of them was this one—soft, slightly raspy, and tentative, in a way that he never allowed himself to be around others. With three words, she understood that his reservations were as many as hers, but that he would proceed anyway. Because he’d calculated the chance of something useful coming out of this to be high enough to justify the risk. 

She also knew he wasn’t planning on sharing with her just yet what the rest of it was about. 

Inwardly grimacing, Yoruichi sighed. Gathering her legs under her, she hopped upwards and landed on his shoulder, draping herself around his neck. 

“Fine then. But you’ll have to tell me eventually.”

* * *

Kisuke had never actually been that fond of the color red. 

So perhaps it was fitting that his entire inner world was in shades of it, from dull brown-red to bright scarlet and every gradation in between. 

He had landed, this time, in the very center of it—Benihime’s throne room. It was a rather gruesome place, in truth. The floor of it was red wood, the shape a long rectangle with a dais at the far end, where she sat in perfect seiza, lips painted carbuncle and hair black as night. Her castle had no ceiling; rather, it was open to the sky above, the blood moon low in the sky directly overhead. Everything was cast in the eerie pall of it, including the both of them. What walls and roofs the castle had left were skeletal, solid at the bottom and liquid-jagged at the top—as though at some point, blood had run upwards and half-completed the outline. 

Behind him, the doors to the hall stood open, revealing that the entire edifice sat on a lake of red water, stretching in all directions for as far as the eye could see. The hall was adorned with rich tapestries and artwork, all sharing the monochromatic theme. 

The spirit herself was a beautiful woman, something that had amused him when he discovered her. But her body was not a human’s—it had ball-and-socket joints, like a marionette; the cut ends of her strings bled behind her in crimson ribbons. She rarely spoke to him for any reason but to criticize; Kisuke didn’t really mind. 

He used _Jinzen_ more often to organize his thoughts than to talk to her anyway. 

Turning to the left, he wandered over to one of the tapestries. This one, he had unwound and rewoven for his own purposes, and it displayed now a visual matrix that represented all of the plans he had in motion. It was the most complex such map he had ever created—but the situation demanded that. Kisuke planned first from his opponent’s options, and Aizen had many. Not to mention the ingenuity to create many more. The number of possibilities regarding upcoming events was staggering; and, at this stage, the number he could safely eliminate was few. 

So the ideal response was to craft his own countermeasures in such a way as to cover as many possibilities as he could. A tactic with several applications was, all other things equal, better than a tactic with only one, no matter how sublimely it would accomplish the single purpose. But overgeneralizing carried its own risks as well—everything was a delicate balance. 

Kisuke ran his fingertip along a particular red thread, split into many and anchoring one corner of the fabric. The rough skin dragged and caught slightly against the impossible smoothness of the silk. Aizen and his Arrancar. He traced another with his thumb, turning it blue with a thought. The Visored. Gold; braided. Soul Society. Foggy grey, thin. Perhaps even a few of the local humans, though that possibility diminished at this point. Green, purple, orange. Himself, Yoruichi, and Tessai. Black. White. Isshin. Ryūken. And, of course, silverbright Uryū. 

A direct assault. Sabotage from within. Diversion and ambush. A lightning offensive or a drawn-out siege. Each offered dozens of pros and cons, for both Aizen and himself. Each remained viable. The one thing he’d been able to determine to a reasonable degree of certainty was Aizen’s final aim, and the means he intended to use. 

He wanted to create an Ōken, enter the Soul King’s dimension, and kill it. 

There was no doubt whatsoever in Kisuke’s mind that he was the person Aizen ultimately considered his opponent. He had not cast it in such terms when he rebelled, of course. But by now, he knew. They both did—even if no one else had seen it yet. 

Armies would clash. People would die. Threads would snap and tangle and intersect anew. 

But in the end, it would come down to what it always did: which one of them had planned better. Which one of them could think faster, when their plans inevitably began to disintegrate. 

Which of them had the art refined to the point of quintessence.

Which of them made the stronger, tighter weave. 

“He has more resources,” Benihime said suddenly. 

For a long moment, he did not answer her. 

“Yes,” he agreed at last. Turning his head from the tapestry, he blinked at the frown she wore. “But I’m smarter than he is.”

“Will that make a difference, when he figures out how to meld the Hōgyoku with his body?” She looked down her nose at him—he could tell, even from this distance. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a slow grin. 

“But won’t it be interesting to find out?”

* * *

Yoruichi sprawled on her back, arms flung out to either side. Though it was well past reasonable sleeping hours, she found she couldn’t quiet her mind enough to do more than doze. It wasn’t often that happened to her—but there were people who could be troublesome enough to worry her to such a state. 

She blew out a breath, disturbing the strand of hair in front of her face. When it fell back into her eyes, she reached up and ran her fingers through it, tugging it back to lay with the rest. Rolling her head to the side, she stared out the window. There was a bit of glare from a street lamp, but other than that, she had a patch of night sky to look at and not much else. 

Folding her hands behind her head, she rested back on them. She wondered what Ishida was up to. She always did tend to develop an attachment to the ridiculously stubborn ones. Kisuke, Suì-Fēng—even Kūkaku and Isshin had their moments. Maybe it was because they were too much fun to tease…

A small sound drew Yoruichi’s attention; she narrowed her eyes. Kisuke was asleep—she knew because she’d bodily shoved him into his bedroom before he spent another night working on something in the basement. Tessai might still be up with the kids, but—

This time, the noise was accompanied by a small tremor in the floor; Yoruichi sat up, brow furrowing. When she heard Tessai shout, she immediately bolted out the door. Kisuke was already in the hallway as well, cane in one hand. They took one look at each other and flashed down the stairs. 

“Basement,” he said, his tone urgent. 

By the time they reached the basement landing, the problem had become glaringly obvious: Tessai looked to be unconscious, bleeding heavily from a massive slash wound across his chest. That was bad enough—but the even bigger problem was that the Gates to Hell were standing open. 

And the two who’d come through them were each holding one of the kids. 

They were robed and masked—it was impossible to make out any distinguishing features. And of course the basement masked their reiatsu to anyone outside or upstairs. Yoruichi gritted her teeth. They were holding blades to Ururu and Jinta’s necks—both of the children were unresponsive. 

“Kisuke Urahara,” said the one holding Ururu. “You’re… what was it? Smart enough to know how this ends? Don’t draw your sword, don’t take so much as another step, or I’ll slit her throat.”

Yoruichi didn’t take her eyes off them, but she could feel Kisuke shifting. This was—she didn't know a word bad enough for this. These guys had enough reiatsu to make good on it. Even she wasn’t fast enough to get over there _and_ disarm them before they managed to kill one or both of the kids. 

Trying anyway simply wasn’t an option. 

“You want me to cut your chains that badly, huh?” Kisuke’s voice indicated none of his prior concern; it was as nonchalant and slightly-amused as it ever was. 

Well, she supposed it must sound like that to them, anyway. Yoruichi knew better. 

“Precisely. Here’s how this is going to work. We’re taking these two back with us. You’re going to follow us. After that, we’re going to resume this negotiation in the Final Circle. I suggest you prepare yourself to remove our chains, but don’t wait too long, or the little ones here will have chains of their own.”

Before either of them could so much as counteroffer, the two cloaked figures jumped back into the gate. Kisuke flashed after them, but they were gone by the time he reached the threshold. 

Yoruichi, throat tight, moved to stand beside him. He was still disheveled from rolling out of bed, without either his hat or overcoat in evidence. Bereft of his armor, he looked so much more like the boy she’d known once—when she herself was still only a girl. 

“That wasn’t supposed to be possible,” he said slowly. It was as though he was still trying to make sense of it. “The laws of Hell are—” he clamped his mouth shut, shaking his head. 

“Useless. Laws. I break laws all the time. Impossible is for idiots. I should have predicted this. Should have—” 

“Kisuke.” Yoruichi tugged sharply on his sleeve. “Stop. Focus. We need to get the kids back. How do we do that?”

He pulled in a breath and held it. Yoruichi waited patiently for him to reset his thoughts, but her skin itched with the need to act. Ururu and Jinta… imagining them in _Hell_ was damn near terrifying. Her fingers tightened in his sleeve; she may have put them there for his sake, but she kept them there for her own. 

Kisuke ran a hand through his hair. “Physically cutting the chains is easy. Predicting the results was the part I hadn’t figured out yet.” His mouth dropped into a frown. “Yoruichi. I need you to get a message through to Soul Society. Ukitake. Tell him as much as you need to to get Uryū here. And at least two other reliable people. I have an idea, but they have to be willing to go through with it.”

“What are we going to be doing?”

He smiled; she ignored the way it trembled at the edges. 

“We’re making a trip into Hell, of course.”

* * *

They arrived in Karakura town under cover of darkness.

Considering he’d been a seated officer in a Gotei 13 squad for nearly eighteen months, it was not Uryū’s first foray back into the living world. He’d led squads for Hollow neutralization purposes before. But this did mark the first occasion on which he’d been sent back to the place of his birth. 

Perhaps more odd than this fact, however, was the part where it was all very unofficial. As the captain in charge of the Thirteenth, Ukitake-taichō had jurisdiction over Karakura, and the authority to send any of his own squad to check on it for whatever reason he liked. As someone with other captains for friends, he was able to impose upon them to borrow some of their squad members as well. That was exceedingly rare, but not unheard-of. 

None of that quite _fully_ explained this combination of choices. Uryū slowed his descent to the ground with _shunpō_ , landing softly. Behind him followed Rukia, then Renji and Karin after. The four exchanged glances. 

Nothing was immediately off. Ukitake had indicated that they should meet up with Urahara, but had not described the nature of the problem any more specifically than that. Uryū sensed no Hollows or similar disturbances. The night itself was quiet, only a few lights on in the windows of the houses on the street. 

“It’s this way,” he said, starting forward. 

The trip to Urahara’s shop took them scant moments with shunpō. Uryū regarded the edifice with a hint of nostalgia before stepping forward and knocking briefly at the door. 

Yoruichi answered, which was unusual. More unusual was the look on her face—she wasn’t smiling, or even amused. Rather, her mouth was set into a frown; though she reached forward and gripped his shoulder by way of greeting, it was too soon gone in favor of showing all of them in. 

Immediately suspicious, Uryū counted the reiatsu signatures in the shop. Tessai’s was weaker than he remembered it—had Urahara upgraded their gigai? He couldn’t sense Ururu or Jinta at all. 

“He’s in the basement.”

Yoruichi led them down. Upon emerging into the familiar training ring, Uryū’s eyes automatically found the thing that was out of place. Freestanding in the middle of the room was what looked like a pair of doors, sealed shut. From each protruded the upper half of a skeleton, like macabre doormen—their skulls were bandaged so as to hide one empty eye socket, their visible arms crossed over their ribcages as though they might at any moment use them to pull open the portal.

The entire structure was wrapped in chains, glowing a soft red. 

“Kidō chains,” Rukia murmured. “But this is…”

“ _Jigoku no Mon_.”

Urahara spoke from behind them, and the quartet whipped around to see him leaning heavily against one of the basement’s rocky outcroppings. His arms were crossed into his sleeves; the brim of his hat pulled low over his eyes. 

“You have a Gate _here_?” Renji sounded like he didn’t quite believe it. He glanced back over his shoulder at the doors and swallowed audibly. 

“Wait, wait. Back up. Did you just say _Jigoku_? This thing leads to _Hell_?” Karin crossed her arms over her chest. “Pretty sure that’s supposed to be kind of a no-go for us shinigami, right?”

“Second dictum,” Uryū confirmed. He still didn’t remove his eyes from Urahara. If they were called here and it had something to do with this… he didn’t like where it was going. 

Urahara met his eyes, the look in his somehow indecipherable. “Generally speaking, yes. But when we’re staring down a war where the enemy has a complete Hōgyoku… well, I’m not really a shinigami anymore, am I?” He lifted his shoulders, still affecting the same casual confidence he always did. 

“What are we here for?” Uryū still didn’t like it. “You didn’t drag us all the way out here to show us this.”

Urahara nodded. “I didn’t. Actually… you’re here because I need your help. You see…” he trailed off—Uryū wondered if he was imagining the way the other man’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve made a miscalculation.”

* * *

“ _Miscalculation_?” Ishida’s voice was low and cold. 

Rukia couldn’t blame him. 

“That’s what you call this? How could you possibly leave these gates down here if there was even a tiny risk of something coming out of them? They’re _children_.” 

Urahara shook his head. “I made an error. Everything I’ve ever read about Hell indicated that nothing makes it out of there without the express permission of the King of Hell.” 

Rukia had never heard of such a being. But then… Hell wasn’t exactly on the Shin’ō curriculum. All anyone ever learned about it was that it was the place that Hollows went when they’d committed unforgivable sins prior to becoming a Hollow—sins that shinigami could therefore not purify. Some people thought that _any_ soul wicked enough went there after death instead of Soul Society, but even that wasn’t confirmed. 

Still… it surprised her more that Urahara had been _wrong_ than that he apparently knew much more than anyone else did about the topic. The latter was more or less normal.

“So, if I understand you correctly, you based your risk assessment on the assumption that the someone called the _King of Hell_ would not condone the kidnap of children to further his ends?” Ishida’s tone was incredulous, still edged with hard anger. 

Rukia’s hands clenched at her knees; she shifted in her seiza. She remembered Ururu and Jinta—remembered that Ishida had lived with them for a year, and known them before that. His anger was, from her point of view, completely understandable. Even she was… her fingers tightened. 

Urahara had dropped his blasé demeanor, either unwilling or unable to keep playing at it in the course of his explanation. But in its place, he wasn’t displaying much at all. Rukia couldn’t even tell if he _regretted_ it. Those children lived with him; shouldn’t he be more upset that they were gone?

“Yes.” The reply was uninflected. 

Ishida’s eyes narrowed; he stood up abruptly. “That’s unbelievable, even from you, Urahara-san.” His gaze slid to her for a moment. 

Rukia knew exactly why. The last time Urahara had displayed this little regard for someone else’s risk, it had been hers. But she’d been a stranger—something was still wrong here. 

“We’re not done here, but there’s no time.” Ishida expelled a gust of air from his nose. “We’re going in, yes?”

Urahara closed his eyes for a moment, nodding his head before he opened them again. “I am. But even I don’t know what’s down there.”

“Then I’m going with you.” Ishida’s tone left no room for doubt. 

Rukia considered the second dictum for all of half a second before she stood, too. “As am I.” 

Ishida had broken the rules for her when it counted. She could do no less for him. 

They turned to the others. “You don’t have to do this—” Ishida started. 

Karin cut him off with the wave of a hand. “Like I’m gonna let you do this without me.” She caught Ishida’s eyes and held them. “Don’t even think of stopping me.”

He dipped his chin tersely. 

Renji sighed. “Man. We’re gonna get fried for this, aren’t we? I’ll be lucky if I’m teaching classes for the rest of my natural life.”

“Might be kind of a short life,” Karin replied, “once they find out about this.”

Rukia winced. “Technically, Soul Society doesn’t have to _know_ , right? Ukitake-taichō sent us here to meet Urahara-san. Not to do anything in particular.” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Renji said. “For now… I think we have work to do.”

“Excellent,” Urahara said, rising as well. 

Rukia had no doubt at all that he’d predicted more or less this exact course of events. He’d probably requested exactly the people most likely to actually help him. But, considering why he needed the help, she couldn’t blame him. Not for that, anyway. 

“Get whatever you need, and meet back here in ten minutes.”

* * *

“You’re damn lucky this time, Kisuke,” Yoruichi said, crossing her arms and leaning against his doorframe. 

He’d retreated to his room to gather whatever he thought he was going to need for the trip. Since she didn’t need to take anything with her, she’d simply followed him instead. Tessai was resting in his own room—he wasn’t in much shape to be moving around, but he’d be fine in a couple of days, when the healing they’d done ran its course. 

Kisuke didn’t answer. When he turned back to face her, though, the pretense of calm he’d worn around the others was stripped from his face. Yoruichi could read in his eyes something that she hadn’t seen there in a very long time. 

It was fear. 

She swallowed; her mouth was suddenly dry. Kisuke didn’t feel mundane things like fear. Not anymore. Not after everything. 

Or maybe… maybe he’d just stopped showing it to her, and she’d forgotten how to look. 

“We’re going to succeed,” she said, talking when his silence became too weighty. She couldn’t stand that look on him. It wasn’t _right_. “We’re going to get them back.”

“Yoruichi,” he rasped. 

She closed her mouth with a snap. 

“I need you to stay here.”

“What?” Her whole body went rigid. “You can’t possibly—” she was cut off when his hands landed unexpectedly on her shoulders.

“ _Please_.” 

Her eyes rounded. “Kisuke—”

He shook his head. “Someone has to look after Tessai, and… the Gotei 13 will be here soon. They’re going to want to close the Gate behind us. You have to convince them not to, and… stop anything from getting out.”

He was right—those things had to be done. They would require someone strong to accomplish. Someone who could not simply be ordered into compliance. Someone to watch their backs. It was vital. _Necessary_. And she was the best choice for it.

“That’s not the reason you want me here,” she accused, unable to make herself sound as angry as she wanted to. 

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s a good reason.” 

Kisuke lowered his head, sliding one of his hands from her shoulder to her arm and pressing his brow into the spot where it had been. Yoruichi closed her eyes. She could feel him trembling. Her chest ached. Raising her free arm, she slid her fingers into his hair, cradling the back of his head to her shoulder. 

“We were never going to die peacefully, were we?” she said. A fragment of an old conversation, from a lifetime ago. 

“Never,” he replied hollowly. 

“Bring them back, Kisuke. All of them.” 

He nodded against her shoulder. When he straightened a few seconds later, he’d wiped the hints of fear and uncertainty from his face and replaced them with the usual crooked smile. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’ve already got a dozen ways to do it in mind. Just keep Soul Society from interfering too much, and everything will be fine.”

An expectant silence hung in the air for several slow seconds, but neither of them filled it. Yoruichi bit her tongue, holding it until after he’d nodded and slid the door open, heading back to the basement. 

Only then did she speak. 

“And bring yourself back, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Term Dictionary_ :
> 
>  _Togabito_  – 咎人 – "Offenders." The word has the connotation of "sinners." These are the souls that occupy Hell. It is known that they include purified Hollows whose crimes in life were too great to permit entrance into Soul Society. Rukia (correctly) believes that anyone, Hollow or not, who committed unforgivable offenses in life is consigned to this dimension upon death.
> 
>  _Ōken_  – 王鍵 – "King's Key." A key that allows passage into the special dimension where the Soul King resides. Aizen is after one.
> 
>  _Jigoku no Mon_ –地獄の門 – “Gate(s) of Hell.” Pretty self-explanatory. Their appearance differs between actual manga canon and the Hell Verse movie; I went with the former.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So… this is chapter one, which should really be subtitled “Even geniuses screw it up sometimes.”
> 
> I’m aware that Urahara and Yoruichi (to a lesser extent) are acting a little different from how we see them in canon. But, well… they’re in a stressful situation where people they personally care about who can’t fight that well are in danger, and… in lots of these scenes, they’re only with each other, and you show your best friend sides of yourself you’d never show people who need to believe you’re in control of the situation. So there’s that.


	2. Famine

Karin alighted on the ground, her feet sinking half an inch into… sand? It felt like sand, but it was the wrong color—too grey. 

The entire landscape was grey, actually. It looked like a barren desert, except that some distance ahead, she could see what looked like pillars or columns sticking up from the ground. The sky overhead was black, providing no light, but she somehow wasn't having any trouble seeing. 

“Ugh, the air.” Renji grimaced from where he was standing next to her. 

She nodded. It felt oppressive—kind of like being under a really strong reiatsu force, but worse somehow. It was that combined with the feeling that it was _dirty_ or _sick_ —those were the best words she could think of for it. It tasted like rot on her tongue. 

On her other side, Uryū was looking at Urahara. The shopkeeper scanned the horizon; he wore one of those blank expressions that made it really hard to tell what a person was thinking. Probably he did it on purpose—the hat shading his eyes helped. 

“So… what now?” Karin broached the topic when no one else did. 

Urahara’s eyes remained fixed ahead. “We find the lowest level. I can sense them, but it’s faint.” He jerked his chin at the pillars. “We’ll start there.”

He took a step forward and vanished from sight, kicking up a small cloud of the sand. Uryū went immediately after. Frowning, Karin slipped into _shunpō_ as well, side-by-side with Rukia. Renji took the rear guard position. 

The landscape flew past them at what had once been a dizzying speed. Aware of her position in the formation, Karin kept her eyes slightly to her unprotected side, wary. So far, she hadn’t really been able to sense anything here, but Hell was such a huge blank in their information that even that was no sign that they were safe. The sand gave way under her feet, making every step feel a little gummy and slow, despite the speed at which they ran. 

Still, they ran for half an hour without reaching the pillars. “What gives?” Karin asked. 

“Some kind of spatial distortion?” Rukia added, pursing her lips.

“No,” Urahara replied. “Give it a while. Your sense of scale will adjust.”

He was right—but Karin didn’t quite believe it until the ground changed underneath them. Then it was as if, all at once, she understood—the structure they were moving towards was just so huge it looked close even when it was far away. 

By the time they actually _reached_ the place, even the shortest column was so big she couldn’t see the top. The spaces between were strange—some of them were at ground-level; others went deeper, cutting into the stone and creating huge underground clefts. Karin caught movement from the corner of her eye. 

“Guys.” Walking up to the closest edge, she looked down, trying to ignore the sense of vertigo she got. The depth was just as staggering as the height of the pillars. Every so often, there was an opening, like the entrance to a cave, but no ledges or anything to land on. Standing in one of them was—was that a person? 

“What’s—” Renji started.

Urahara spoke, staring intently down at the cave entrances. “Togabito. The damned.” 

“Well… at least we know there’s something in that one. Any idea which of these will take us deeper?” Uryū pushed his glasses up his nose, shifting his weight to center. 

“Probably none of them.” Urahara folded his arms into his sleeves. 

Karin frowned. “Then what do we do?”

The shopkeeper cocked his head to the side. “This is the only the first level. The Togabito here are those whose crime in life was some unforgivable indecision or cowardice. What would none of them ever be able to do?”

“You can’t be serious.” Apparently, Uryū knew the answer. 

Karin supposed she might, as well. “Jump,” she replied.

“We can’t even see the bottom,” Rukia protested, making a gesture at the chasm. 

“I know. Thrilling, isn’t it?” Urahara grinned. 

Karin rolled her eyes. His mental stability was really up for debate. “Well, let’s quit wasting time then. We’ve got those kids to save.” She gulped down her apprehension and pushed off the edge in a decisive motion. 

It wasn’t that big a deal anyway—there were hohō techniques for this kind of thing.

“Karin!” Uryū sighed and jumped off after her. 

Soon they were all freefalling, more or less. It was actually a pretty strange feeling, to be falling long enough to have time to really think about it. Air whistled past her ears, tearing at the fabric of her shihakushō. But the uniform was made to be durable, and protected most of her from the little tiny pieces of debris that occasionally hit her on the way down. 

“What the Hell is up with these people?” Karin had to shout to be heard over the rush. She almost winced when she realized the mistake in her phrasing.

But the question was legitimate—as they approached the level of the first cave opening, she got a better look at the Togabito. The ones she could see wore listless faces, expressions uncomprehending and vacant. It was almost like they were all walking around halfway in a coma or something. Had they suffered brain damage?

“Maybe it’s part of their punishment?” Rukia called back. She had her arms tucked in close to her sides, one of them resting on the hilt of her zanpakutō. 

“Right in one, Rukia-san,” Urahara said. “If you can’t make up your mind… why have one at all?”

“That’s barbaric!” Uryū said—Karin could see his scowl even from where she was. 

“It _is_ Hell,” Renji reminded him. 

“Look out!” Rukia’s warning was sudden, but just in time. 

Karin threw herself to the side with a burst of reiatsu to her feet, narrowly missing the massive limb that had been thrown into her path. Somehow, she hadn’t even noticed it. 

“What the—”

“Down there!” Renji pointed. 

She followed his arm with her eyes, and spotted what he was talking about. From the darkness emerged what looked to be a pale human hand, only it was the same grey color as everything else, and gigantic. Karin’s eyes went wide as another shot up from below—quickly, she got out of the way and drew her zanpakutō. 

“ _Sobiero, Hisaku_!” 

The blade released; a gout of scarlet flames slammed into the palm of the grasping hand with a sizzle. The hand flinched for only a moment before it recovered; the scorch-marks disappeared like they’d never been there. 

“Incoming!” 

More of the hands rose up from the abyss below—dozens of them, at least. Karin ducked out of the way of one coming in from the left, only to feel something close around her midsection like a vise, trapping Hisaku down near her leg. 

“Dammit!” The fingers around her tightened—Karin felt her breath leave her in an involuntary rush and struggled to pull in air to replace it. She could swear she heard her ribs creaking under the pressure. 

“ _Shirafune_!” 

A rush of cold air hit Karin’s face. Glancing down, she saw the wrist of the hand holding her start to freeze. Ice crawled along the surface, creeping up towards the fingers. A familiar segmented blade slammed into it afterwards, cracking through the ice and the flesh beneath, breaking the hand at the wrist. With a sideways lurch, it snapped off entirely, its grip on her not relenting. 

Karin spun through the air, end over end, struggling to free herself from the bizarre prison. But her lack of air was making her feel dazed and weak—black spots fogged the edge of her vision. Sounds faded in and out of her ears at what seemed to be random intervals, adding to her disorientation. 

When something tore her free of the grasp, she didn’t question it. Karin pulled in a deep breath; pain snapped through her body like a bolt of electricity. Her senses faded to black, and she lost consciousness.

* * *

Renji registered the new presence as nothing more than a flash of black fabric before it was ripping fingers from the massive fist still gripping Karin. The figure—tall, he thought, but nearly indistinguishable otherwise—threw his eighth seat over its shoulder, an arm around her waist to keep her there. 

“This way, all of you!” The voice it spoke with was feminine. 

In a move a lot like a hohō maneuver, it kicked off the empty air with a blast of reiatsu, aiming itself at one of the cave entrances. Renji slashed with Zabimaru, fending off another of the grasping hands. 

“I don’t think we have much choice, you guys!”

He alighted first at the cave entrance, Zabimaru still drawn. Ishida landed right beside him, with Urahara and Rukia after. All brandished their blades in one form or another.

“There’s no need for that. Kisuke Urahara and companions.” The voice came from just in front of them—Renji strained his eyes to peer into the darkness. 

The figure saved him the trouble by stepping back out of it, Karin still in a rescue carry. The only difference was that Hisaku had been sheathed safely back in her sash. 

“How do you know who we are?” Renji demanded, unwilling to trust anyone in this place without a _very_ good reason. 

Up close, he could see far more of the figure’s features. It did indeed appear to be a woman. She wore a black cloak with a hood; the ragged ends of it trailed to the floor below them. Her face was covered, too, wrapped in what looked like a black zukin. Only one of her eyes—bright blue—and a few pieces of pale hair were visible. 

Next to him, Renji felt Ishida stiffen. 

Underneath the cloth over her face, she smiled, distorting the shape of the fabric. “By this point, those rebels have made sure everyone here with a mind knows who you are. I’m told there’s a rather hefty reward for your capture.”

Renji’s grip tightened on Zabimaru—something which only seemed to amuse the woman.

From behind him, Urahara spoke. “And here I thought I was supposed to come voluntarily.”

“And give you time to concoct some method of outmaneuvering them? Even they’re not that stupid, I think.” 

“And you?” Renji demanded. “You sound like you don’t like them much.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Not especially, no.”

“Will you give us back our friend?” Rukia took half a step forward, still wielding her shikai. 

The woman nodded. “Of course. She should wake soon—it seems that she went a bit too long without air, is all.” 

With care, the woman slid Karin down her shoulder and into the crook of her arm, crouching to lay her on the ground. She stepped back, and Ishida immediately made up the difference by moving forward, rearranging Karin until she was safely positioned on his back, loose arms draped over his shoulders. 

The woman studied him with her single visible eye for a long moment, then returned her attention to the others. “You’re here for those children, aren’t you?”

“And if we are?” Renji asked back.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, though, urging him to the side, and he stepped away to let Urahara through. 

“We are,” the former shinigami said. “I don’t think there’s much point in denying that.”

That looked like the answer the woman had expected. “They have them captive on the deepest level. You’ll need help navigating—dangers greater than those lurk ahead.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And you’re volunteering?” Urahara inquired slyly. “What’re your terms?”

Her eye narrowed—interest, Renji thought, rather than anger—and she tipped her head from side to side several times like she was considering it. “The leader of this group that has taken your little ones. His name is Shuren. I would like you to help me bind him at the lowest level. I cannot abide threats to His Majesty, you see. I’m sure you understand.”

“We help you deal with your rebels, and you help us get the kids back, is it? Sounds good to me.” Urahara sheathed his zanpakutō at his waist—he didn’t bother disguising it as a cane anymore.

“Hey,” Renji protested, “you can’t just decide that. How do you know she’ll keep her word—we’re in _Hell_ , here.”

Urahara shrugged. “Don’t suppose anyone else knows how to navigate to the lowest level?” He let the silence sink in for a moment. “Well then.” Returning his attention to the woman, he folded his hands into his sleeves. “What do we call you?”

She paused. “Amari will do.”

The ever-present half smile on Urahara’s face inched up at the corner. “Interesting choice.” He glanced at the others, then back again. “We should get going.”

Amari inclined her head. “You weren’t wrong when you decided to jump. But the guardians there are… _difficult_ to bypass. Our best bet is to take the longer way. We can descend through the levels individually. Follow me.” She turned, putting her back to them, and started forward. 

The darkness swallowed her. Urahara followed immediately after, and Renji quickened his pace to keep up. 

He still didn’t like this, but… hopefully it wouldn’t come back to bite them in the ass.

* * *

“Can you explain a little more about this rebellion?” Rukia figured that if no one else was going to ask the obvious question, she might as well. 

Renji was busy keeping an eye on their surroundings, still obviously not trusting Amari to guide them. Ishida was occupied carrying Karin, who hadn’t woken yet. Urahara… seemed to just be staring off into space. That left her. 

Amari glanced at her from the corner of a kingfisher-blue eye. “What do you wish to know about it?”

“There’s really a King of Hell?”

Beneath the mask, the other woman smiled. “This surprises you?” 

Rukia considered it. “I don’t know if it surprises me. I mean… we shinigami don’t really know a lot about Hell at all, so maybe it’s just… anything would have been equally surprising.” Her hand still rested on Sode no Shirayuki’s tsuka, but for the moment, she’d sheathed the blade. 

Amari appeared to be unarmed, but that was hardly a reason to drop her guard. 

“There is such a person,” the woman replied. “The King has ruled Hell for as long as anyone can remember, keeping order. Those of us strong enough to keep our minds down here—or new enough that we haven’t lost them yet—serve. It spares us our other punishments, but does have its own… disadvantages.”

“But there’s a rebellion?” Rukia prompted carefully.

The cave floor, which had been on a steady downward incline, began to level out. 

“Yes. Shuren and his ilk resist the rule of law. They believe that the King is hiding some method of cutting their bonds from them. If they can sever their Hell Chains, they believe they will be free to leave.”

“Hell Chains?”

Amari’s cloak shifted, then parted. She withdrew one of her hands, gloved in the same black fabric as the rest of her. Held in it was a silvery chain, about two feet long. “All of the Togabito have them,” she explained. “They keep us bound to this plane of existence.”

“Bound?” Rukia frowned. “Do you mean…?”

“We are not permitted to leave. Hell is ours for eternity.”

Suddenly, the mindless Togabito on the first level seemed luckier. At least they weren’t aware of that fact. Rukia couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, to be stuck here for so long. Was any crime really _so_ heinous as to warrant that kind of punishment?

And if such transgressions _did_ exist, which of them had Amari committed?

The tunnel opened up, spitting them out into what must have been the next level. Rukia’s eyes widened; she heard Renji suck in a surprised breath behind her. 

“The second level,” Amari said dispassionately. “For crimes of intemperate desire.” 

It took the form of a massive canyon, the stone walls in sunset hues. The group stood on one edge of it, close enough to see that the walls on the other side were covered in Togabito, emaciated bodies strung up by the chains in their chests. Their forms were locked in place by what looked like thick iron bands, their eyes covered by strips of fabric. Open wounds festered on their skin where the bands chafed, but few seemed to struggle. Even then, they didn’t seem to be aware that they only aggravated the injuries. Blood and bile-stains ran down the canyon’s sides, fading before they reached the bottom.

Rukia’s guts lurched; she swallowed back the lump rising in her throat.

Urahara studied the macabre display with a tilted head. “Complete sensory deprivation?” he asked. 

“Perceptive,” Amari replied. “Yes. They cannot sense anything—not even spiritual energy. They are left with their desires intact but impossible to fulfill. Even the desire for light.”

“Don’t they die?” Renji asked, looking vaguely ill. 

“Of course they do,” Amari said. “But they are bound here, and so they simply reappear, bound and deprived anew.”

Rukia felt her stomach turn. She was prevented from saying anything, however, by a sudden noise from behind. Tearing her eyes from the hanging bodies, she saw Ishida stop walking; he held himself steady. It would seem Karin was waking up. Her hand bunched in the front of his shihakushō for a second; she lifted her head from his shoulder, looking confused for all of a moment before her face assumed its usual scowl. 

“What happened?”

Ishida lowered her carefully to the ground. “We’re on the second level now. Can you walk?”

Karin cracked her neck to either side, rolling her shoulders around and checking that Hisaku was in the right place. “If you can explain while I do, sure.”

* * *

The journey down the canyon was hardly pleasant. Uryū found it easier not to seethe or try to cut down the suffering Togabito if he focused only on the reason they were here in the first place. As far as he knew, every second could make the difference in what happened to Jinta and Ururu. He owed it to them to make haste. 

The way down was a narrow path carved into the side, the only part of the canyon wall without spirit-bodies hanging from it. Still, they were close enough to smell—and it was overwhelming. The stench of unwashed bodies, decay, and wet heat. Karin was openly covering her nose; he was tempted to follow her example. 

The floor of the canyon wasn’t really much better—but if the breeze that gently stirred his hair was anything to go by, there was fresher air coming from somewhere. Though _fresh_ might have been a stretch. This whole place reeked of stagnancy at best. Their mysterious guide’s zukin made a lot more sense when he considered that it probably helped mask the smell. 

Keeping his eyes fixed on the trail ahead, he walked in Urahara’s footsteps over the canyon floor. Something about Amari—he thought it was the eye. It seemed too familiar to him. The color especially. He wanted to get a better look and see if it might not jog his memory; something like that was bound to be important. 

“Heads-up, guys,” Renji said. “We’ve got company.”

Uryū lifted his eyes. Further down in the direction they were moving, he could make out half a dozen cloaked silhouettes. The largest had to be about eight feet tall, but most of them were about the size of a human. 

“Tch,” Amari scoffed. “Rebels.”

“Tough luck, shinigami,” said one of them, near the center. “Running into us.” He paused just long enough to lock eyes with Uryū. 

“Get them.”

They scattered, and Uryū’s group did the same, spreading out over the canyon for room to maneuver. The one who’d spoken followed him, drawing what looked to be a claymore from the large sheath on his back and swinging down. 

Uryū flashed to the right with _shunpō_ , drawing Yorugen in time to block the next blow. It came in from the side; he angled his block to jar his opponent’s arms. The Togabito grinned at him with a mouth full of jagged teeth, lips cracking and beading with blood. 

“Yasushi Ando, at your service,” he hissed, swinging again. “Who might you be?”

Uryū ducked under the swing, darting away from the next one with a flash step. “I hardly think my name should matter,” he replied flatly. 

“Maybe not,” Yasushi conceded. “But it’s just good manners, isn’t it?” 

The temptation to roll his eyes was high, but to do so would be to take them off his foe, and he was smarter than that. “Fine then,” he said. “Uryū Ishida. Tenth seat of the Eighth Division.” Did they even know what Soul Society was like down here? Didn’t the dead lose their memories when they died? Even if not… 

“Tenth seat? That sounds pretty low,” the Togabito said. The chain dangling from his chest—iron-colored and flecked with something red—jangled harshly as he swung again.

Uryū didn’t bother dignifying such a comment with a response. “ _Tachikomero, Yorugen_.”

The sword split in his hands, reforming into his twin shikai. He crossed them in front of him to block the next downward stroke of Yasushi’s claymore. 

The Togabito was strong, and his sword was heavy, meaning that it had a great deal of extra momentum behind it. But Uryū preferred that in an opponent. His mouth curled upwards just a fraction; he intentionally let his left arm slacken. Yasushi, bearing down with his weight, was thrown to that side. 

He recovered quickly, slashing for Uryū’s exposed midsection, but the blade passed right through, harmless as a breeze. 

“What the—”

His confusion left him wide open; Uryū took advantage, striking with both swords. He hooked one each into the flesh of Yasushi’s shoulders and pulled, placing his foot strategically and throwing the Togabito over his hip. Yasushi landed heavily on his back—Uryū withdrew Yorugen with a sharp motion that left twin bloody furrows on either side of his neck. 

Before he could so much as contemplate the deathblow, however, Yasushi was back on his feat. 

“Impressive,” the Togabito said, rolling his shoulders. “But not impressive enough.”

“You like to talk, don’t you?” Uryū asked.

“Don’t you?” Yasushi asked, giving the blade another swing; he was much faster this time. “You look like the kind of guy that likes to show off how smart he is.”

Uryū’s eye twitched. That one hit a little close to home. He bent backwards, hearing a low whistle as the heavy blade passed by. 

He’d once paused to explain something to Kyōraku-taicho in the middle of a practice match. 

He would never do so again.

Striking quickly, he reeled backward when his blow clanged off the claymore. Something was off about that—it shouldn’t shake his arms so much, given the force he’d struck it with…

“You like it?” Yasushi asked, grinning again. “Hellforged steel. In conjunction with my reiatsu, it produces extra feedback when struck. Hit it too hard, and it’ll shake you down to your bones and you’ll fall apart at the seams.” 

“ _Kage-e_ ,” Uryū murmured. 

“What’s that? I didn’t catch—” Yasushi leaned to the side, cutting himself off. 

Yorugen’s left-hand blade missed him by six inches, easily. 

“Did I shake you so bad you can’t even aim, shinigami?” he mocked, raising his blade again to swing. 

A thin red line appeared right where his right arm met his body, bursting apart a second later with a spray of blood. The limb came off entirely, falling uselessly to the ground with a soft thud. For a moment, their battle was swallowed in silence, the sounds of the others fighting filtering in to take its place. Uryū picked out the popping snap of Karin’s flames—but he did not divert his attention.

“What the fuck did you _do_?” Yasushi demanded, hefting the Hellforged blade in his remaining arm. 

Uryū swung again, this time missing over his head. The shadow of the hook-sword passed right over Yasushi’s throat; he choked as his windpipe opened to the air. Uryū, with no desire to leave him like that, stabbed the hook of his second blade into the space over his shoulder, angling it upwards. 

A puncture opened up in Yasushi’s neck; the exit wound bursting open from the middle of his skull. Uryū had no idea how long it would take him to revive, but hopefully it would be long enough for them to make it out of here. Glancing around, he saw a jet of crimson light decapitate one of the other Togabito. Karin’s opponent was already a smoking mass on the ground. Ice closed over Rukia’s foe’s face, cutting off her shrieking. Renji took down the giant, slicing into his achilles tendon with Zabimaru. 

Amari took the head of her opponent between her hands and wrenched, ending his life with a wet cracking sound. 

“Everyone okay?” Renji asked. 

The others nodded or made sounds of affirmation. 

“These ones were small fry,” Amari told them. “When we run into Shuren’s more direct subordinates, it will not be so easy. Prepare yourselves.” 

Uryū pursed his lips, sighing through his nose. It was hardly surprising, but still… 

“How many levels are there?” 

Amari crossed her arms. “It depends on how you divide them. But the landscape will change four times. We should keep moving.”

* * *

“So, Amari.” Kisuke said the words lightly, leaning back against the stone behind him. 

This third level was mostly a large island supported on the bent forms of uncountable Togabito. The punishment suited for those who’d taken advantage of others in their lifetimes, it seemed. They’d stopped to rest a while, and plan their entrance into the lowest two levels. Hell was having unpleasant effects on some of the others—while he might have kept going by himself, he understood their need for a breather.

“You seem awfully helpful for a damned soul. No desire to break your own chains?”

Underneath her mask, she smiled at him. “Do I puzzle you, Kisuke Urahara? I’m ever so flattered.” He recognized the light tone very well; he let own smile turn wolfish in response. 

“Seems to me like I’m the one who should be flattered. Did those rebels of yours really spread word of me so far?” 

She cocked her head to the side. “Yes, but that’s not the reason I know of you. The King spends much time observing the outer world, from the throne room. Some events—some _people_ —are more interesting than others. I have seen a great deal of it, myself.” Her eye was sharp. 

“I admit, even I wanted to meet you.” 

He blinked. “Is that so? Really, it’s too much. I’m just a man with a candy store, you know.”

The eye narrowed to a sliver of iris. Mirth, he believed. 

“And I am just a Togabito. Like any other, I have sinned gravely, and so I am damned. Perhaps, if it were you, you could break this chain, but that does not mean you _should_. I understand that well enough.” 

“You’re just… fine with how things are?” Karin broke into the conversation. 

Urahara turned his eyes to her, then flicked them to where Uryū and Rukia were speaking quietly—Renji had volunteered to watch while the remainder of them rested. 

“I have… what is the idiom? Made my own bed. Now I must lie in it,” Amari replied. 

“What’d you do that was so bad, anyway?” 

“That’s a heavy question to ask someone, don’t you think?”

Karin looked only slightly repentant. Crossing her legs underneath her, she shrugged. “It’s not like I’m making you answer.” 

Kisuke turned his eyes up to the yellowed sky. They’d fallen through it once they reached the end of the canyon—he could still see the spot. Going back up was likely to be harder than going down, but at least they’d know how. 

“I tried to kill my brother,” Amari said simply, lifting her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. 

Karin frowned. “Tried? They put you down here for _attempted_ murder? I mean, sure, that’s bad, but—”

Amari shook her head slowly. “You misunderstand. My sin was not the attempt—it was the failure.”

“Wait. You’re down here because you _didn’t_ kill someone? That’s fucked up.” Karin crossed her arms. Her left knee bounced up and down—she certainly didn’t bother concealing what she was feeling. 

Kisuke _almost_ envied her that. 

“Come on,” he said, gesturing the other two over. “We need a plan for these last levels.”

_Hold on Ururu, Jinta. I’m almost there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Term Dictionary_ :
> 
>  _Sode No Shirayuki_ – 袖白雪 – “Sleeved White Snow.” Rukia’s zanpakutō. It’s techniques are all _mai_ (舞), dances, and its release command is _mae_ the imperative of ‘to dance.’ The technique she uses in this chapter, _Shirafune_ (白刀) “white sword,” gathers moisture into the tip of the blade and freezes it, extending the blade. It also begins to freeze whatever it comes into contact with.
> 
>  _Zukin_ – 頭巾 – “Hood/kerchief.” A general term, but when used specifically, can refer to a special type of headwrap associated in popular culture with ninja. Amari wears one that also covers her left eye.
> 
>  _Amari_ – 余り – “Remnant, residue.” As with many Japanese words, ‘amari’ could be any of a large number of combinations of characters, but this is the one she means. It’s obviously not usually a given name. Because it’s a rather common phrase to find (in constructions meaning “not very” or “not much” of whatever), it’s something of a dry joke that the others could be expected to understand. 
> 
> _Kage-e_ – 影絵 – “Shadowplay.” One of Yorugen’s special techniques. It allows Uryū to temporarily and instantaneously switch places with his own shadow, meaning that any attacks “he” takes don’t do anything, but attacks his shadow takes damage him as normal. Likewise, the attacks he delivers don’t do any harm, but his shadow gains the ability to cut and damage as normal. His appearance doesn’t change, but he becomes incorporeal and his shadow solid.


	3. War

Karin had never been much for swimming. 

She had the sense that she’d preferred other sports in the living world—she remembered soccer especially. After their move to Soul Society, she’d never really bothered with swimming recreationally, though her dad had made sure both she and Yuzu knew how. Plus, now that she knew her zanpakutō was fire-type, it just seemed weird. 

Nevertheless, swimming was how they were supposed to get down to the next level, so there really wasn’t much of a choice. The Togabito supporting this huge slab of rock they’d been resting on stood on poles or something under the water, Amari had said. _How_ swimming down was supposed to get them to the next level wasn’t exactly clear, but considering a tunnel had put them out in the sky on _this_ level, she figured physics was probably the wrong thing to think about in here. 

Looking sideways, she smirked to herself. Uryū was helping Rukia with her sleeve ties. Since Yuzu had to wear them pretty much every day at the Fourth, Karin and he were both experts in tying them by this point. 

Who said skills exchange had to stop when they graduated?

The air on this level was warm and slightly sticky, so the fact that her arms were bare to the biceps was actually a relief. Hopefully, their shihakushō wouldn’t weigh them down too badly. She had no idea how Urahara planned to swim with his haori or ridiculous shoes, or Amari with that full-body cloak, but whatever. They were adults; they could figure it out. 

“Everyone ready?” Urahara wrapped his left hand around his zanpakutō, testing its snugness in his sash. 

Karin nodded. “Let’s go.”

Rukia and Uryū dove. Urahara walked on the water for a while before letting himself sink. Karin, less sure, waded in. Renji sensibly decided to do the same. 

The bottom of the lake, or whatever this was, dropped off sharply after several steps. Taking a deep breath, Karin submerged. 

Opening her eyes under the surface, she had to remember not to pull the breath right back in. The Togabito really _did_ support the island. They had maybe an inch or two of breathing room between the surface of the lake and the bottom of the massive stone slab, and their footing was actually wooden beams—vertical ones, without much space to stand on. 

Motion caught her attention, and she turned her head. Renji had stopped beside her, gesturing downwards with his hand. The others were far ahead by this point. Grimacing, she kicked, actually glad for the thick fabric of her shihakushō—it made going down easier. 

Every time she kicked, Karin pushed a burst of reiatsu through her feet—that was what everyone else was doing. Or so she guessed, from the trails of bubbles they left in their wakes and the speed they moved at. Moving her arms in sweeping strokes, she propelled herself towards the bottom. It was dark, but she thought she could make something out where she figured there should have been solid lake bed. 

Ahead of her, Urahara hit the bottom first; he disappeared. 

Karin’s lungs burned with the effort of holding her air in. With three more mighty kicks, she pushed herself through and gulped in new air—only to find that she was falling through air again. 

Flipping herself over so she was feet-first, she landed on the ground with a soft thud, spitting out a bit of excess water. Using her hands to push her wet bangs out of her face gave her a better idea of what she was looking at. Then again… maybe it would have been better to go without.

The fourth level of Hell was a flat plain for a long while, but ended in what looked like a sheer cliff upwards on all sides. The Togabito here were strung up, too, except their chains ran in vertical lines from earth to sky every few feet; she couldn’t see the upper ends. They were spread-eagled and shackled at all four limbs to the big links with thinner ones. The chains hanging from their chests were wrapped around their necks. She couldn’t tell, but it didn’t look tight enough to kill them—just really uncomfortable. Most of them were bleeding from at least one major wound, though some were in various stages of healing. 

The noise had to be the worst, though—just a constant, low-level groan of misery, interrupted by the occasional crack as someone’s throat gave out for the who-knew-how-manyeth time.

“What the _fuck_ are those?” Renji goggled. 

Karin turned her head and felt her mouth drop open. They were huge, maybe half as big as a Gillian. Four-legged, red or brown in color, except for the fact that it looked like someone had peeled all the skin off of their faces and left them with only skulls. If she had to compare them to anything they knew, she’d say they were really big gorillas—they had the right general shape and the longer arms like that. 

“The Kushanāda,” Amari replied. Water still dripped from the edge of her cloak, darkening the black dirt underneath her. “Jailers, and tormentors. These people are here for dereliction of duty in life—the Kushanāda never fail in theirs.”

“Tormentors?” Rukia echoed. 

“Watch.” 

One of the Kushanāda approached a line of the Togabito. Its movements were surprisingly quick for a creature of its size. Quicker than she’d heard Gillians were, anyway. The pitch and urgency of the groaning at that part of the chains increased, until the Togabito closest to the creature were screaming. Karin watched with wide eyes and growing horror as one of the massive arms reached up, _popping_ a Togabito off his chains and lifting him to its mouth. 

The soul body broke easily between the Kushanāda’s huge jaws, leaving nothing behind but a red smear on the grey skull. 

No one spoke. Karin was pretty sure no one had any words. She sure didn’t. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from where one of the Togabito’s arms still dangled from the chains, like the stem of a cherry. 

“Are… they supposed to be looking at us like that?” Rukia pointed at a cluster of three Kushanāda. They stood apart from the others, all of their empty eye sockets indeed aimed at the group. 

Amari’s visible brow descended over her eye. “No. Get moving. Follow me.”

The subtext of that was something like ‘oh shit,’ if Karin had to guess. None of them wasted any time in complying with Amari’s order, fanning away from the chains and out onto the plain instead. The Kushanāda followed their motions with their heads. 

That was creepy enough—worse was when they started moving. 

“Run.”

Karin stepped into _shunpō_. Hisaku’s tsuka wrapping was firm and slightly warm under her fingers—she tightened her grip and drew, releasing it with a muttered command. It looked like they were heading for a narrow gap in the far cliff face. But with the angle they were at and the speed of the Kushanāda, she didn’t think they were going to make it. 

“They regenerate; if you have to fight, aim for the back of the neck. They won’t go down unless you take off their heads!” 

Amari’s advice came right on time—Karin had to jump away from the nearest creature as it swung a closed fist down in her path. Leaping into the air, she watched the ground crack and fissure, cratering under the force of the hit. 

“Dammit.” Karin redirected herself with another flash step, climbing higher to avoid the backswing. She was a yappy dog next to the size of this thing.

“Bankai! Sōō Zabimaru!” Renji wasn’t fucking around—neither could she. 

She felt him appear next to her. “There’s three,” he said, “so we’ll deal with this one.”

“You got it, fukutaichō,” she replied. “Want me to soften it up for you?”

He nodded quickly. “Keep it busy with some flashy stuff so I can cut its head off.” He sounded almost eager to do it; then again, after watching what one of the other ones did to that soul, she wasn’t feeling too sympathetic to it either. 

Renji flashed away. Karin took that as her cue to get started. “ _Habatake, Hisaku_!” 

She swung her zanpakutō in a sharp arc. Fire bloomed at her edge, flinging free with a whoosh and a crack. The flames struck the Kushanāda in the side of its head, blackening a section of its dull grey jawbone. It swung its head toward her, creating ripple in the air that she could feel. A big thing moving that fast was just unnatural. 

It reached for her with an oversized arm; Karin had had about enough of being caught in stupidly-large hands. Sidestepping in midair, she swung Hisaku down with both hands. 

Her zanpakutō bounced off its furred knuckle without cutting at all. What kind of reiatsu did this thing _have_ , to be able to deflect her like that? 

The rebound from the hit left her vulnerable just long enough to miss the heavy whistle of its other forearm approaching from behind, and it hit like she imagined a truck would, swatting her out of the air and straight into the ground. Karin threw her arms out to catch herself; she yelped when her left cracked and splintered on impact, pieces of bone piercing her flesh. Her vision flashed—she bit down hard on her tongue until blood welled in her mouth. 

_Move, move, MOVE!_

Forcing her remaining limbs into compliance, she rolled to her feet before the Kushanāda could crush her. She jumped away with hohō, shifting her injured arm behind her back. Above her, Renji had taken over distracting it—he blocked a doublehanded blow from the creature with the thick blade in his right hand. 

“Kurosaki, go cut it!”

“I can’t!” she shouted back, spitting blood to the side. 

“Yes you can! Focus your reiatsu into your sword!” He barely fended off the second blow; the Kushanāda bellowed and retracted its hand when he managed to slice off one of its fingers.

He was right. She could do this. More importantly, she had to. Pushing off the ground, Karin gained height again, ignoring the throbbing agony in her left arm and adjusting Hisaku in the grip of her right. 

The back of the Kushanāda’s neck was protected by part of its oblong skull, almost like a hood of sorts. She’d have to aim carefully. If she could burn it first, eat away at some of its toughness, she might have a better chance of being able to sever it. 

Swinging Hisaku three times in quick succession, she used the blade of the sword to direct the fire, angling it down for the gap between its skull fringe and the base of its spine. The three flame lashes all hit the same spot—the smell of charred flesh confirmed that she’d done some damage. She had to do the rest before it abandoned Renji for her. 

“ _Sakebe_!” 

Hisaku’s blade itself burst into flames, heating the edge of the metal to a strawberry-red color. Karin kicked off with _shunpō_ and drove herself down, pushing as much of her reiatsu as she could stand into the sword. 

Skin parted beneath her; her good arm jarred when she hit bone. Gritting her teeth, Karin forced more energy into her zanpakutō—the fire on the blade flared and with a crack like thunder, the vertebra under her sword broke. 

She fell more than sliced the rest of the way through, landing hard on the ground, but she’d cut or burned away her body’s width from the whole left side of its neck. Slowly, like a massive tree in a forest, the Kushanāda toppled over.

* * *

Rukia pulled in her breaths rapidly—this thing just didn’t want to die. It seemed mostly impervious to Sode no Shirayuki’s ice; whenever she froze it, she held it at most for a few seconds before it broke free. It seemed apt defensively—every time she or Ishida got near it, it focused on batting them away. So far, they’d managed to stay out of its reach, but it was near impossible to get in close. 

She wondered why Ishida wasn’t using his bow. Compared to the close range of his zanpakutō, a tactic like that would have been extremely helpful. But Rukia of all people knew that something that obvious would have already occurred to him—so there had to be some other reason he wasn’t doing it. Anyway, there wasn’t a whole lot of time to be thinking about it. 

Trusting him to figure something out, she decided to keep harassing it—if she could bind it long enough, he’d be able to get in close. 

Turning her zanpakutō in her grip, Rukia pierced the ground four times in a semicircle with the point. “ _Tsugi no mai, Hakuren_.” A draft of chill air blew her hair back from her face, a sheet of ice flowing towards the Kushanāda like a wave. 

Ishida, in the path of the attack, flashed away at the last possible second; the ice encased the creature’s right arm first, flowing up the rest of its body. Knowing she had only a few seconds, Rukia pointed at its center mass with her free hand. 

“ _Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel_!” A small sphere of golden light flickered into existence at the tip of her finger. She hoped Ishida knew this incantation and could use the time it would buy him for something. “ _With light, divide this into six! Bakudō #61: Rikujōkōrō_!”

The first beam hit the Kushanāda straight on. The second crashed in from the right; by then, the ice was cracking, but Ishida was already in motion. Three powerful _shunpō_ jumps launched him up and over the creature’s head, and he passed in an upside-down arc over it. Each of his swords bit deep into the same spot as he passed by, leaving a footlong gash at the exact center of its nape. 

On his downward arc, he made eye contact for just a moment, then reoriented himself so that his feet were beneath him again. His swords lit with blue fire—Rukia knew exactly what he meant, and braced her own palm in front of her as well. 

“ _Hadō #33: Sōkatsui_!” Their spells were just about in unison. 

His hit first since he was closer, hers right on the heels. Between them, they managed the power required, and the Kushanāda’s head snapped forcefully to the side, lolling on a broken neck, before it fell.

* * *

Kisuke had to admit—the woman calling herself Amari had hakuda skills Yoruichi might envy. He’d played at distracting the Kushanāda they were left with when the others split up; mostly, he’d been observing her. Not without warrant; he now believed he had confirmed the hypothesis he’d been working with since they met. 

Of course, it was one thing to know. It was another thing to be able to _prove_. But he had a feeling she’d do that for him, if he was subtle enough about prompting her into it.

Or maybe, if he just confronted her outright. 

She ended the Kushanāda with a heavy punch to the back of its neck. The impact reverberated through the spine—he heard the bones shatter. Like anything else in Hell, it would be alive again soon enough, but for the moment, the problem was dealt with. 

She landed lightly on the ground next to him. “Do you always let your friends do all the work?” She asked the question lightly, shaking blood off her fists. 

“Are we friends?” he asked back.

She smiled under her zukin. “You’re the genius. You tell me.” 

The other two Kushanāda toppled; Kisuke smiled enigmatically and turned to face his approaching comrades. They were acquitting themselves well—if nothing else, the experience they were gaining here would be of benefit to them in the future. He knew that. 

And if it conveniently allowed him to feel slightly less remorse for asking them to do this, well… he’d take that. 

“Well, well. Remind me not to upset any of you in the future,” he said slyly. 

Karin scowled at him. “Whatever. Can someone do something about my arm? I can’t heal for shit.”

“If you can hold on for a bit longer, I can take care of it,” he told her. “I think we should probably get somewhere a little more protected.”

Amari nodded, crossing her arms. “The gap in the cliffs here leads to another cave passage. If nothing else, the Kushanāda are too large to follow us down there.”

“Before we go,” Kisuke said, halting her mid-turn. “I think it’s about time we were honest with each other.”

“What’re you talking about?” Renji asked, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Well, Renji,” he replied, folding his hands into his sleeves. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that we’re in the presence of royalty here. Isn’t that right… King of Hell?” 

He cocked a jaunty eyebrow at Amari. The others looked confused, which was understandable, perhaps. Except Uryū—Kisuke derived a tiny bit of pleasure from the thoughtful look on his protégé’s face. 

Amari made no attempt to deny the claim. “How did you figure it out?”

“Your chain,” Uryū said, understanding dawning over his features. “All the other chains we’ve seen… feel different.” 

Quincy really did have a subtle sense for variation in reishi. As expected, that much had remained intact even after the loss of his other powers. 

“From so little?” She blinked.

Kisuke shrugged—she’d been careful with her words in telling ways as well. And, of course… there was the fact that she was guiding them in the first place.

“Wait—if you’re the King, then it was _you_ that let those people out in the first place!” Karin’s good hand tightened into a fist. 

This revelation produced an impressive reaction in the others—Kisuke tilted his head at them. They were, to a one, reaching for weapons. Suddenly wary and ready to fight, even knowing that they were looking at the being that ran a place capable of such torments as this. 

He wondered what they’d do if they knew the rest of the story. 

“I did,” Amari confirmed. “Not to the result I desired, but the fault is nevertheless mine.” 

Kisuke felt the eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to react. He, however, merely regarded Amari with a flat stare. For several moments, tense silence pervaded. Renji shifted restlessly. Uryū’s hands flexed. Karin was grinding her teeth. But he was quiet. 

Amari reached up, pushing down her hood. Hooking her fingers over the top of her zukin, she pulled it down, pushing away the fabric that covered her left eye. It was closed—he could tell from the shape of it that the eyeball itself was long gone. The skin in the area was pinkened and rough with burns, though the other half of her face remained whole and smooth. 

Uryū visibly started. “…Lucia?”

Amari smiled. “Not quite, Uryū Ishida.” She fixed her eye on Kisuke. “I did not intend for innocents to become involved in this. They were supposed to take _you_ —and cutting chains had nothing to do with it. Believe me or don’t, but the fact remains that what I have told you is true. I wish to bind my traitorous subordinate, and give you back what was taken from you. If you will assist me with the spell, you will walk out of here with those children in tow.”

Kisuke placed a hand on his hat, sighing. “You drive a hard bargain, really.” He suppressed the flare of something low and hot in his guts. Coolheadedness was the order of the day here—anything else risked far too much. 

“But I think that’ll do just fine.”

* * *

Amari claimed she was going to scout out the last level. Uryū wasn’t sure he believed that, but Urahara seemed to, and he was in charge of this rescue attempt. They needed to stop for a while to take care of Karin’s arm, in any case. 

Urahara worked on the injury with healing kidō while the rest of them sat in a rough semicircle. Rukia kept glancing at him, a troubled look on her face; Uryū didn’t ask what it was. He had a feeling he knew, and this was not the place for that conversation. He settled back against the cave wall behind him, jagged stone pressing unevenly into his shihakushō. Of course nothing in Hell would be comfortable.

“Urahara-san,” he said, turning his head to observe the other man at work. “I never asked how you met Ururu and Jinta in the first place.” 

The children had last names different from each other and everyone else at the shop, and there was no mistaking that their capabilities were beyond those of ordinary humans—let alone ordinary human _children_. When Uryū had first moved in with them, his training partner had been Ururu rather than Urahara himself. Having a better idea of what shinigami were like, now, he’d easily place her at the level of a seated officer. 

“You didn’t,” Urahara agreed. He shifted slightly; his kidō-illuminated hands moved to Karin’s elbow.

“They aren’t… modified souls, are they?”

Urahara shook his head, eyes shrouded in the shadow of his hat brim. “No.” There was a pause. 

“Jinta and Ururu were human children.”

“Were?” That was Rukia—she sounded unsure. Her knee bumped into Uryū’s when she crossed her legs underneath her. 

“The building next to my shop used to be a florist’s,” Urahara said, tone unreadable. “Ururu’s parents owned it. All three of them were in a car accident several years ago. Jinta was in the other car, with his grandmother, I think.” 

Urahara’s mouth was turned down, almost thoughtfully, but Uryū couldn’t see much more of his face than that. “All of the adults died on impact. The two of them… almost did as well. I was just in the right place at the time. Ururu recognized me. She… asked me if she was going to die.” He shifted again, moving his hands further up Karin’s arm. 

“I told her no. And… decided I meant it.”

“So their abilities…?” Rukia hesitated. 

Urahara shook his head. “Byproducts of the process that kept them alive. And possibly the only thing keeping them alive now—without reiatsu of their own, they would be unable to resist the process of acquiring Hell Chains.”

He lapsed into silence. 

No one broke it.

* * *

Yoruichi had no idea how time flowed in Hell, but to her, it took the Gotei 13 about a day to arrive in Karakura after their advance party. 

It wasn’t just a few more soldiers, either. The Sōtaichō must really want to close this Gate—he’d sent three captains to do it. Yoruichi felt their approaching reiatsu and stood. Putting her back to the open gate wasn’t the best idea, but it was much better than putting her back to the combination of Jūshirō, Byakuya, and Unohana-san.

Behind the Fourth’s captain, she could also see Yuzu Kurosaki. That was strange—why would the Sōtaichō have complicated this by sending a family member? Unless…

“So I guess one of them sent a message before they left, huh?” 

Kisuke had told her to expect them _soon_. Maybe he’d anticipated that one of their number would get something back to Soul Society before entering the Gates. 

“Rukia thought it might be a good idea if I knew,” Jūshirō confessed, smiling mildly. 

Yoruichi crossed her arms over her chest. “It hasn’t even been a day,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to let you banish these Gates.” Not while they were still in there. Not while there was still a chance. 

“The energy is already beginning to contaminate the living world,” Byakuya said. 

She scowled at him. “This room will contain most of it for a while longer yet,” she replied. 

Kisuke had designed it to do so. 

“Nevertheless,” Unohana said. “We will perform a kidō seal to contain the interference. We have strength enough to maintain it for several days.”

A seal…?

“More pressing will be how long it takes everyone to notice that we’re gone,” Jūshirō added. “Not everyone can be ‘sick’ for weeks at a time.” He shrugged ruefully—clearly amused despite the fact that the humor was at his own expense.

“You’re… not here to close the Gates.” Yoruichi paused, narrowing her eyes. “And that’s because the Sōtaichō has no idea what’s going on.” 

“The only place Hell is mentioned in the bylaws of Soul Society is in the second dictum,” Byakuya said flatly. “Which states that we are not to interfere in its affairs. There is no rule regarding how such infractions are to be handled.”

Slowly, Yoruichi smiled. “That’s a nice loophole you have there, Byakkun.” 

He frowned at her, his displeasure with the nickname obvious. She grinned. 

“Okay, then, let’s—” Yoruichi _tsk_ ed, throwing herself forward and springing away from the spot with her hands. 

A naginata slammed blade-first into the ground where she’d just been standing, cleaving a furrow in the dirt. From behind it, a cloaked Togabito emerged, swinging the weapon in a broad arc. Everyone jumped back. 

“Shit. Looks like we’ll have to clean this up first.” There were six Togabito and counting—clearly, several had banded together to take advantage of the wide-open doorway. 

“Ukitake-san and I will set up the kidō,” Unohana said, her tone unruffled. “I’m sure the rest of you can resolve this matter.” Calmly, she moved to one side of the gate, Ukitake mirroring her on the other side. 

Yoruichi, turning aside a blow from the naginata with her hand, arched her eyebrows in surprise at the line of blood that appeared on her palm. “Careful,” she warned. “These ones are pretty strong.” 

Not, of course, as strong as they were—but definitely more numerous. 

“ _Chire, Senbonzakura_.”

“ _Sakisomero, Hasuhime_.”

Yoruichi grinned. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

“The deepest level of Hell is reserved for those who have committed infractions against the balance—or against god.” Amari’s eye slid sideways to land on Urahara. “In another life… well, that doesn’t matter. The important part is that it also contains my residence. That is where Shuren is. And where your children are.”

“Well, then what the heck are we waiting for?” Renji said, making to step past her and out of the cave. 

Amari’s arm blocked his passage. “Do not go so swiftly into danger, shinigami. There is something else you must understand.”

“What _now_?” Karin asked—Renji shared her obvious frustration. 

Scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, he kept the other one on Zabimaru. What part of this was complicated? They just needed to get in there, bind that guy, grab the kids and leave. Sure, there would probably be a fight involved, but if those Togabito were just like the Kushanāda or whatever, they could handle it. 

“If you die here, you will remain here.” Amari tilted her head to the side. “That is the law of Hell.”

“Couldn’t you simply make an exception?” Ishida asked, pushing up his glasses. “You’re the one who decides these things, are you not?”

She frowned. “Such a thing as freeing the enchained is long beyond my power. I rule here because I am the strongest. Only the most primitive order exists here now—and you must understand that together, Shuren and his allies are stronger than I. The risk that you will die is real. And it is a risk greater than death under any other condition. You have seen the torment the others undergo—yours would be worse yet, if you died in the lowest level. Do you understand?”

“Don’t die, don’t underestimate these assholes. I got it.” Renji still didn’t see the problem. 

Amari sighed, shaking her head; her mouth pulled up on the good side so she was smiling, sort of. “Very well then. They await us. Come.”

The first thing Renji noticed when they stepped out of the end of the tunnel was the heat—it felt almost like he had a sunburn just from standing there. It had a sudden effect on everyone, actually—turning their faces pink like they’d run a long distance. Only Karin didn’t really seem to notice. She squinted at all of them with a strange look on her face. 

The source of the heat was obvious: they were far underground, and apparently like anywhere else, that meant there was magma—lots of it. It bubbled slowly in huge pools, taking up most of the floorspace on this level. The gravity also felt heavier—like he was standing under a captain’s reiatsu pressure or something. 

At the far end of what he could see, there was a castle, of sorts. It looked like any fancy house, really, except that instead of wood, it was made of… some kind of shiny black rock or something. A lot of the ground under them was similar, actually. Urahara probably knew what the deal was—but he was completely focused ahead. 

Starting forward before the rest of them, he followed a thin trail of the black rock; the rest of them filed in behind. The heat only got worse—Renji was sweating though his shikakushō and could feel his hair starting to stick to his head. 

“Where are the Togabito?” he asked Amari.

“You do not wish to know the answer to that,” she told him.

Going was slow, but no one confronted them until they’d made it past the worst of the magma. 

“No,” Rukia murmured. 

Renji lifted his head, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Dangling from the front walls of the castle were two iron cages. Each of the kids was held in one of them—neither looked conscious. Both were soaked—in their own sweat, most likely—and probably beyond dehydrated, if the waxy color of their skin was anything to go by. Worst of all, though… Jinta already had a short, black chain protruding from his chest. 

“Since I doubt Her _illustrious_ Majesty was polite enough to say it,” called a voice from above, “allow me: welcome, shinigami, to Hell. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Renji searched for the source of the voice, drawing Zabimaru almost without thinking about it. The hilt of a sword was a reassurance in his hand—he wasn’t all that worried about dying, but this still demanded that they take it seriously. 

“ _Nake, Benihime_!” 

From behind him, a bright red arc of light flew forward, slamming into one of the walls with enough force for Renji to feel the tremors in the ground under his feet. It landed well away from the kids—but when a brief flurry of movement followed, he understood that Urahara had hit what he meant to. 

A cloaked figure landed on the ground in front of the wall, rising slowly from his crouch. He pushed his hood back—honestly, he didn’t look that different from any other soul. Black hair, cut to his chin and neck. His eyes might have been red; everything looked black and red in this light, though. Most obvious was the chain shackled around his neck. 

“Shuren.” Amari managed to say the one word with disdain, anger, and something that sounded like pity all at once. 

“Your Majesty.” Shuren’s tone was mocking. 

Renji’s sleeve stirred as another blast of reiatsu whipped past him; Shuren jumped away from it with a look of obvious irritation. 

“And here I thought we were going to negotiate this like civilized men,” he said, sneering at Urahara. 

“Let’s save ourselves the trouble,” Urahara replied, swinging his zanpakutō again and forcing Shuren another half-dozen feet back. “You want me to cut your chains. I refuse. You threaten Ururu and Jinta. I kill you. Negotiation concluded.”

“Is that so?” Shuren replied. “Let’s see you try, Kisuke Urahara.” He raised a hand and gestured forward with it. From over the castle wall appeared dozens more Togabito, all cloaked like Shuren, all armed. 

“Urahara!” Karin stepped forward. “Leave this guy to me. You have more important stuff to do, remember?”

“She’s right,” Ishida confirmed, releasing his zanpakutō. “We’ll deal with the Togabito. You take care of the rest.”

Renji and Rukia exchanged a look—he saw his own intentions reflected in her face, too. What Urahara needed was time. They could give him that. 

“ _Hoero, Zabimaru_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Term Dictionary_ :
> 
>  _Kushanāda_ – クシャナーダ – The “guardians” of Hell. Mine are slightly different from the ones in the movie, but they have a similar size and function. 
> 
> _Sakebe_ – 叫べ – “Shriek/cry out.” One of Hisaku’s special techniques. This one sets the entire blade on fire, which allows for quicker uses of Habatake, but also makes the metal of the sword hot, increasing its cutting potential and destructive power. The flames have no adverse effect on Karin or Hisaku.
> 
>  _Rikujōkōrō_ – 六杖光牢 – “Six Rods Prison of Light.” Bakudō #61. Strikes a target with six beams of light through the midsection, rendering them completely unable to move. Byakuya is known for being particularly good at this spell, but Rukia is also capable practitioner. 
> 
> _Sōkatsui_ – 蒼火墜 – “Blue Fire, Crash Down.” Hadō #33. Direct kidō blasting spell. One of Rukia’s favorites.
> 
> * * *
> 
> One more chapter to go! I hope everyone’s enjoying the story—some parts of this are going to be pretty relevant _way_ down the line in the series. Comments, thoughts, and reactions much appreciated.


	4. Death

These people just kept on coming.

Yoruichi twisted, planting her foot in a Togabito’s chest and shoving. He lost his balance and fell backwards through the Gates. Over her shoulder, a dozen near-invisible blades whistled forward, taking the arm off the one that tried to flank her from the left. He screamed, and she jumped into a roundhouse, cutting off the sound when the side of her foot broke his jaw. She stepped forward when he fell, throwing him back into the portal to Hell. 

“Thanks, Byakkun,” she said with a grin, flicking her hand in a jaunty salute. 

Byakuya, of course, did not respond. 

Jūshirō and Unohana-san were still working on the kidō. As with most of the big area ones, it was going to take a while longer yet, and it was crucial to make sure they weren’t interrupted in the meantime. 

A great creaking shudder shook the ground beneath them. Yoruichi’s eyes snapped to the Gates. That couldn’t be good—the door on the left-hand side had a new crack in it. “Jūshirō!”

“It’s destabilizing!” he called back. “Just keep doing as you’re doing; the kidō should help!”

 _Should_ was not particularly reassuring. Still, Togabito were coming through; they needed to be stopped in any case. 

“Yoruichi-san, I have an idea!” That was little Yuzu. “Please step away from the Gate for a moment!” 

Unsure if that was a great idea, Yoruichi did it anyway. 

Senbonzakura’s blades rushed into the place she’d vacated; Byakuya took over the job of stemming the tide from the gate for the moment. Yoruichi easily switched places with him, using _shunpō_ to get at the nearest one on the outside, slamming the heel of her hand into his chin and snapping his head back. Kisuke had said the Togabito were dangerous and difficult to kill—but she didn’t know the exact details. She figured shoving them all back in was better. 

“ _Bakudō #42: Midoriami_!” The green webbing flew through the air, opening with a snap over the gate. The next Togabito to attempt entrance failed, getting tangled in it and eventually falling backwards. 

Apparently, that was not the entirety of Yuzu’s plan, however, because she was chanting again—Yoruichi thought it might be a double incantation, but she was too busy throwing her foe into his closest ally to pay close enough attention to be sure. The next one came in, and she swept low. He jumped over her leg, rushing past her and attempting to get to Yuzu. 

“Look out!” she warned.

Yuzu was concentrating intently on her task, eyes fixed forward. Yoruichi shifted, adjusting her balance to spring after the Togabito, but before she could jump, a cloud of pink blade-shards swept between Yuzu and her attacker, slicing the unwary Togabito to ribbons. 

“ _Bakudō #63: Sajō Sabaku_! _Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui_!”

A total of three beams of light shot towards the gate. The first, gold tinged with pink, split into a chain net. That was not the normal shape for the spell—Yoruichi had no idea how she'd done it. The second two, both blue with the same faint discoloration, struck the net spanned over the gates; the fire ignited the chains, but produced no explosion. 

At least, not until the first Togabito hit it trying to get past. Then there was a crack like thunder, rolling and splitting. The net trembled, but remained in place. After several more identical impacts, the other side of the gate fell silent. Yuzu was leaning heavily on her zanpakutō, but smiling slightly. 

“Nice work, kid,” Yoruichi said. 

No doubt if Tessai were awake, he would have been interested in asking her about it. 

“Now, take a break and let us handle this part.”

Yoruichi glanced at Byakuya. He inclined his head just faintly. 

The rest of these Togabito had no chance.

* * *

Karin had always wondered if the fact that she was invulnerable to Hisaku’s fire meant that she wouldn’t be burned by any fire at all. 

Apparently, when it came to fire controlled by other people, the answer was no. The stinging wound on her left side was proof enough of that. Spinning out of the way of another fire whip, Karin raised Hisaku, bringing her down and slicing through the reiatsu weapon. One end of the whip spun off to the right and fizzled out. Shuren retracted the rest. 

The problem was, he could generate them without any effort; it was just a second before the whip was back at its former length. Karin dropped into a roll, coming back up on her feet and throwing a line of fire from Hisaku’s blade. 

The pressure here made it damn near impossible to stay in the air with _shunpō_ , so she had to remember her ground maneuvers. 

Her flames nearly missed, but she used her off hand to direct them left in time with Shuren’s dodge; she was rewarded when they lit his cloak on fire. He had to drop one of his whips to smother them by closing his fist, and Karin took her chance. Charging forward, she avoided the remaining whip and took Hisaku in both hands, slashing diagonally. He danced away; no more than the very point of her sword dragged down his chest, but she’d made him bleed. 

Without warning, Karin’s hands were locked against her sides. She yelled in raw pain when the abandoned whip wrapped around her—she hadn’t known he could control it at a distance. The sizzle of her own skin was loud in her ears; frantically, she lashed out with raw reiatsu, forcing the flames away and dispersing them. Her new wounds were angry red welts, black on the sides—her whole body shuddered. 

Gulping down a breath, Karin tightened her shaking grip on Hisaku. She could still fight—this was nothing. She had to keep him busy while Urahara and Amari worked on that kidō, or all of this would be for nothing. 

“Try that again, fucker,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes. 

With a mighty push, she launched herself into a flash step, appearing behind Shuren and thrusting forward with Hisaku’s blade. He shifted, and she caught him across the ribs—not deep. Gritting her teeth, Karin stepped in and swung again when he turned to meet her, shortening the whips in his hands to blade-size. 

“What’s the matter, shinigami? Can’t stand the heat?”

“If I didn’t believe this was Hell before, that pun convinced me,” she snapped back, parrying his left-hand weapon. “ _Sakebe, Hisaku_!” 

Red clashed with orange—Hisaku’s blade on fire to match Shuren’s. Unlike his, however, Hisaku's flames were hers, and nothing to be afraid of. She struck down; Shuren crossed his swords in front of him to block. She’d seen that move before—it was one of Uryū’s favorites. Karin’s mouth curled. 

“ _Aoge_!” Swords still locked, Karin swept her free hand in front of her, directing Hisaku’s flames into a blast—at range this close, they _had_ to hit.

Shuren jumped back with a shout. The technique had caught him square in the chest and neck. Hisaku’s fire guttered out, but it left blistering skin behind it. Blood oozed from the cuts she’d inflicted earlier, but she’d accidentally cauterized the top half of one of the wounds. Well, that hardly mattered. 

Her arms ached—continuing to swing her zanpakutō with injuries this bad was making her slower and shakier. 

Hopefully that kidō wasn’t going to take much longer, because Karin wasn't sure how much fight she had left in her.

* * *

Rukia had figured out pretty early on that this fight was going to be especially difficult for her. The heat on this level was simply too much for her zanpakutō to operate at full effectiveness, which meant she was left with kidō as far as attacking went. Her hakuda was okay, but her opponent had _tentacles_ for arms—six of them. She wasn’t going to get too close to that for obvious reasons. 

Firing off a _sōkatsui_ without incantation, she jumped away again, grimacing when it barely put a dent in him. She either needed to pick a stronger spell or start using the chants. From a distance, she heard a scream that sounded like Karin. Worry flared in the pit of her stomach—she’d never really bought into the idea that worrying about a comrade was a form of disrespect—but there wasn’t much she could do. Not when she was having this much trouble keeping _herself_ alive. 

Her opponent—he’d given his name as Gunjō—moved with surprising speed. Rukia, slowed by heat and fatigue, couldn’t quite move in enough time to avoid all of his arms. He caught her by the ankle, lifting her into the air with a sudden rush of displaced air. Rukia let go of Sode no Shirayuki, tapping the tsuka to rotate the blade like a pinwheel. It worked the same upside down as it did any other way, and she needed to stop the rest of the arms surging towards her. 

“ _Hadō #58: Tenran_!” She caught her sword, abruptly stopping the spin. 

A blast of twisting air burst forward, knocking Gunjō’s arms away and throwing him backwards. He lost his grip on her; Rukia hit the ground with a thud. Time—she needed time. 

Stabbing Sode no Shirayuki into the ground, she tried to buy it. “ _Juhaku_!”

Ice—thin, too thin from the heat—surged forward along the ground. It reached Gunjō as he was trying to stand, freezing his foot in place. Rukia was already incanting her next spell, knowing the ice wouldn’t hold for long. Not here, and not against strength like this.

One of the tentacles escaped the technique almost immediately, cracking and shattering her ice. As though she were preparing to throw a javelin, Rukia lifted her arm to her shoulder, finishing the spell as blue light formed in her raised hand. 

“ _Bakudō #62: Hyapporankan_!” With a bounding step forward, Rukia launched the light rod. 

Mid-flight, it split, multiplying into hundreds of bright shafts. Probably a few more than she needed, but she wasn’t going to take chances when her foe had six very long and flexible limbs to work with. 

Gunjō escaped the ice just in time to be hit with the _hyapporankan_. Planting two of his limbs on the ground, he flipped partially out of the way of the spell, curving his body away from its trajectory. But she still caught half his arms, staking them to the ground with the light-lances. 

Taking a firm grip on Sode no Shirayuki, Rukia flashed in from that side. If she could just hit him in the torso between his pinned arms—

“Ah!” 

Her flash step hadn’t even completed before one of his free arms found her waist, plucking her off the ground like an insect. “ _Hadō_ —”

She tasted dirt and… something else vaguely salty. The second tentacle tightened around the lower half of her face, smothering her and preventing her from speaking. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat out of pure necessity. Her free arm had been pinned to her side, but she still had her sword. 

Rukia swung it, hoping to slice through her bonds directly, but Gunjō’s final free arm intercepted, wrapping around her zanpakutō’s blade. All of the limbs tightened, bulging grotesquely, and Rukia groaned as she felt the pressure on her ribcage become enough to strain her bones. Several wet pops and bursts of pain signaled her ribs breaking—she screamed into her fleshy gag, the sound ragged but muffled. 

Focus. She had to focus, or she was going to lose all her air and die. She couldn’t die, not down here. Not like this. 

A twinge in her mind from Sode no Shirayuki brought clarity to her foggy thoughts, for just a moment. It was enough. Abruptly, she dropped the blade, freeing that hand, and aimed her palm for Gunjō’s half-covered face. The blue energy of her favorite kidō gathered, then shot forward. His hold on her loosened for just a moment when Gunjō caught on fire, and Rukia used the opportunity to scrabble at the tentacle over her mouth, pulling it away in enough time to take in a shaky breath. 

She strained to hold it back, digging her fingernails into the fleshy limb. Unless she reinforced that spell with the incantation, it was going to do next to nothing. “ _Ye lord… Mask of flesh and bone, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of… man_ ,” she rasped, arm trembling against Gunjō’s efforts to regain his hold on her. “ _Truth and Temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws_.” 

The fire, burning Gunjō’s cloak, flared. Rukia caught the scent of burning skin and knew it was working. Pushing with her reiatsu, she put everything she had left into the spell, pulling in a painful breath. 

“ _Hadō #33: Sōkatsui_!”

The fire spread, flashing bright enough that she had to close her eyes against the glare. Rukia felt Gunjō’s hold lapse completely; a second burst of agony and the sudden feeling of stone beneath her were confirmation that she’d been dropped. Rolling onto her back, she forced her eyes open. 

Where Gunjō had been, there was only a scorched corpse.

* * *

“Ready?” Amari’s tone and bearing were both quite neutral, by comparison to her previous demeanor. 

The kidō they held between their hands cast a strange reddish light up onto her face. It made her look older—though still not nearly as old as he suspected she was. 

Kisuke nodded. “Allow me,” he said. 

She nodded slowly, carefully retracting both hands from where they had been supporting the roiling orb of light. A completely new bakudō seal, invented and implemented within minutes. Ordinarily, he would have been looking forward to testing it. 

This time, he simply hoped it was sufficient to its purpose. 

“I can’t save that child,” she said. Her eyes moved to the cages—he knew what she meant. “The chains are permanent, unless you can find a way around them. But I will grant permission for him to pass safely from here. I do not know how much time that will give you to devise a solution, but it is all I can do.”

“You’re really bad at apologizing, Amari-san,” Kisuke said, his tone devoid of any color. 

“Never learned how,” she replied. “Now go.”

He nodded. Shuren was still engaged with Karin, but she was losing. Slowly, to be certain, but surely all the same. Rukia had just killed her foe, but looked in no shape to be helping. Renji’s was missing an arm and staggering—not a threat. Uryū had the big one tied up as well. The shot was as clear as he was going to get. 

Manipulating his fingers, Kisuke separated the sphere into two, extending each into roughly the shape of long arrows. He felt it fitting enough, considering the thought that had precipitated the spell’s creation. Orienting the arrows with his hand, he aimed for Shuren. 

“ _Jigokujō_.”

The bolts launched simultaneously, their trajectory bending around to strike from Shuren’s blind side. The blow he’d been seconds from landing on Karin never connected—the flames in his hand fizzled out into nothing. 

Karin wisely jumped back when a glowing sigil appeared underneath Shuren’s feet, the red light growing steadily brighter, then flashing once before it faded, burned into the stone under his feet. 

Shuren, too, had become stone, the same obsidian as the rest of the environment was made of. Frozen in an expression of shock and horror—probably forever. 

Kisuke’s eyes landed on the cages, still suspended from the walls of the castle. 

He felt no remorse for what he’d just done, considering. 

Flashing to the cages, he cut Jinta’s down first with a stroke from Benihime. Catching the thing before it could hit the ground, he sliced the top half off. Sheathing the blade, he reached down into it, sliding his hands under the prone child’s back, lifting him carefully. The chain on his chest rattled; a reminder that Kisuke might already have failed. 

Jinta felt lighter than he remembered, thinner. From this close, his condition was horrifying—eyes blanked like the dead, skin wan and drawn thin as paper. He was soaked with sweat; it plastered his Urahara shop t-shirt to him like another layer of skin. 

Kisuke’s breath trembled. Carefully, he braced Jinta against his chest, cradling the boy’s head into his shoulder with one hand, supporting the rest of his weight easily with the other. 

“Ururu doesn’t have a chain,” Uryū reported, cutting down the other cage in a similar fashion. He was bleeding from a gash on his temple.

“Good,” Kisuke replied. His voice cracked. “I’m trusting you to get her out of here, Uryū.”

Looking vaguely surprised, the young man nodded. 

Young. So young, all of them. It wouldn’t last—Kisuke knew that. He’d planned for it. They would all be old before their time. Or dead before it. 

He swallowed thickly. If Yoruichi were here, she’d tell him to focus on the present. Jinta needed… something. He had to figure something out. The first step was the same no matter the solution—he needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. 

“I’m going ahead,” he told the others. “Follow as fast as you can.”

The Gotei 13 was likely already present; he didn’t know how long Yoruichi would be able to convince them that the Gate should stay open. 

“Go,” Renji replied, hoisting Rukia on his back. “We’ll be fine.”

Kisuke ran.

* * *

Kuchiki-taichō and Yoruichi-san hadn’t had any difficulty dealing with the rest of the Togabito in the basement after Yuzu had used her nets. Fortunate, since she really needed the time to recover. She only hoped she’d been useful—they were certainly both capable of much more than she was, even accounting for the limiters that the captains wore in the living world. 

The last fell at about the same time as Unohana-taichō and Ukitake-taichō finished the kidō seal. The effects were immediate—the air became easier to breathe, and the heavy feeling of foreboding that had settled over her shoulders seemed to lift. 

“Kurosaki-kun. You may remove your kidō now.” Her captain addressed her with a tiny smile. 

Yuzu nodded. “Yes, taichō.” Yuzu closed her fist over. The charged net burst into a shower of harmless sparks and faded away. 

That ominous crack in the gates was still there; she was fairly sure it was inching wider. “Unohana-taichō? What happens if the doors break?” 

The other woman pursed her lips. “I do not know, Kurosaki-kun. We must ensure that they do not.”

Yuzu pushed herself to her feet. She knew what that meant—there was a time limit on Karin, Uryū and the others. If they didn’t make it back before the captains were forced to close the Gates… she swallowed. 

They might never make it back at all. 

The minutes ticked by; Yuzu tried her best not to make it obvious how nervous she was; she thought she was probably projecting it anyway. By contrast, her captain was, as always, the picture of unruffled calm. And of course, even if Kuchiki-taichō was worried about his own sister, he would hide it very well. 

Really, the only other person who seemed even a bit anxious was Yoruichi-san, who paced behind her, footsteps steadily scuffing against the dirt of the basement training area. Yuzu’s heart lingered in her throat; she couldn’t seem to swallow it back down. 

Abruptly, the light pouring from the Gates shifted, outlining a shadow. From it stepped Urahara-san, Jinta wrapped tightly in his arms. Yuzu took a step forward—Yoruichi took half a dozen. But Urahara ignored everything, even the presence of the captains, moving somewhat to the side and crouching, carefully lowering Jinta to the floor. 

Yuzu pulled in a sharp breath when she saw the chain protruding from his chest. It was black, not like the grey ones pluses usually had. Her fingers tightened on Hasuhime’s pole. 

“Is that a—” Yoruichi started. 

Urahara nodded. Reaching to his waist, he unsheathed his zanpakutō. “I have to cut it,” he said, his voice heavy. 

_There is another way._

“Wait!” Yuzu said, stepping forward again. “You don’t have to do that. Um.”

Everyone was looking at her. She felt her face getting hot. 

_Ask them to let you through. I will teach you._

“Er… please. Let me try. Hasuhime is… she says we can do it.” Yuzu swallowed thickly. 

Urahara stared at her for a few long seconds; eventually, he nodded slowly. He didn’t put his zanpakutō back, but he stepped away. “The others are on their way,” he informed the group, as though only just noticing them. He was quick to return his attention to Jinta, however. 

Yuzu knelt next to the boy, laying Hasuhime down beside her. She was careful to point the spear-tip of the staff away from anyone, but she kept her close enough to touch. 

_What now?_

_Use the purification kaidō. The one Unohana-san taught you for poison._

_But it’s not poison, is it?_

_Trust me, Yuzu._

She couldn’t well keep arguing at that point, could she? Yuzu’s chest expanded as she pulled a fortifying breath into her lungs. Letting both hands hover palm-down over Jinta’s chest, Yuzu channeled her reiatsu into them. Oddly, kaidō was much less precise than regular kidō—she’d have thought it would be moreso. Ordinary medicine was very precise, after all. But with kaidō, it was all about giving the reiatsu the right _intent_. So she thought of clean, fresh things: mountain springs and rain and the crisp white of new linen. 

The light limning her hands turned pink-tinged blue. Yuzu could feel the chain now, in a way that wasn’t like feeling with her skin. It didn’t correspond to any of the senses she usually had, really—she didn’t know if there was a word for what she was feeling. Like… like rot. Slow rot, but right in the soul. Deteriorating the particles that made up everything in the world. Her mental image of water started to blacken, but she focused on it—imagined it clearing again, until she could see the bottom of the pool. 

She felt, distantly, soft fingers at her temples. There was a reassuring presence behind her, wrapping her in its gentle warmth. It reminded her of being embraced by her mother; of something she had almost forgotten. She drew from it, from the knowledge that she wasn’t alone, and pushed more reiatsu into the kaidō. 

The shift happened suddenly. She was pushing and pushing and pushing—and then the resistance gave way all at once, like a snapping twig, and her reiatsu washed over it, dissolving the rest. The chain on Jinta’s chest was wreathed in pink light, then burst apart, fading into nothing—as though it had never been there to begin with. 

The hands at her temples withdrew, and Yuzu collapsed backwards into an exhausted seiza. She felt unbelievably drained. “I think I—”

She caught sight of the surrounding faces and blanched. “Did I do something wrong?” Momentary panic seized her—not even Ukitake-taicho was smiling. 

They all looked somewhere between solemn and surprised, even Kuchiki-taichō. Urahara was staring at her so intently she thought she might wither. She looked back at Jinta—but he seemed fine. 

“No, Kurosaki-kun,” Unohana said softly. Her face resumed its usual serene expression. “You’ve done very well.”

Oh. Well. That was all right then, Yuzu supposed.

* * *

The crack in the Gate was two-thirds of the way across the whole door when the others reappeared. Their arrival only destabilized it further—Yoruichi sensed the containment kidō wavering. Considering who had put it in place, that was not a good sign.

They were in terrible shape to a one: Ishida was bleeding from the forehead and at least one deep cut in his arm. He carried a pale, shaking Ururu, thankfully free of a Hell Chain. Yoruichi wasn’t sure Yuzu would be able to do an impossible thing twice. Rukia and Renji were holding each other up—Rukia looked like she could barely breathe. Karin had huge burn welts over most of her visible skin; she swayed on her feet. 

“Unohana-san,” Yoruichi said reflexively. 

The captain of the Fourth was already in motion. “Ukitake-san, Kuchiki-san, would you please close and banish the Gate? I believe we have no more need of it.”

They both nodded. Yoruichi saw Kisuke stir for the first time in several straight minutes. He’d lapsed into thought as soon as they’d seen Yuzu’s zanpakutō manifest and help her through a kaidō spell that didn’t exist. She’d let him think, because now wasn’t the time for anything else. 

“Kisuke—” She cut herself off when he squeezed her shoulder with a hand on the way past. 

“Stick to the plan,” he said softly. “And… trust me, if you still can.”

She didn’t like how that sounded at _all_. Reaching for him, Yoruichi gritted her teeth when her hand closed over empty air—he’d flashed away, the—

“ _Kisuke_!” 

“Please do close the door behind me, you two. Thanks for the help!” He grinned in typical Kisuke fashion, adjusting his hat on his head. 

And then, with nothing more than a wink and a jump, he was gone—back into Hell.

Yoruichi threw a fist into the rock face behind her. It shattered. 

Damn that man. Damn him. 

Damn him for leaving her behind again.

* * *

Uryū knocked a few times on the wood frame of Yoruichi’s bedroom door. There was a grunt from inside—probably the closest thing he was going to get to real acknowledgement. He took it for permission and stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him with his elbow. 

She was lying on her side on the futon; curled up in the best approximation of a cat she could manage in a fully-humanoid form, he supposed. Far from the picture of despondency, she looked to be seething. He couldn’t say he blamed her for it—Urahara had many frustrating tendencies, but by far the worst was his disinclination to share his thoughts with others. 

Uryū had always figured Yoruichi was the exception that proved the rule. 

Maybe she wasn’t, after all. 

With a soft clink, he set down the tea tray on the low table at the center of the room. The curtains were drawn, so the room itself was dim despite the afternoon sun outside. 

“It’s chamomile,” he said by way of explanation. “Yuzu made it for you.”

It hadn’t been more than a couple of hours since the events had reached their conclusion. Or, well—temporary conclusion, anyway. Kuchiki and Ukitake had been forced to close and banish the Gates before they broke open or worse; Urahara had been firmly inside when they did. Without a Gate, or a method of opening one, there was simply no way of knowing when or if he’d make it out. 

Uryū settled on the other side of the table, though Yoruichi hadn’t moved. 

“When we were down there, we met a woman. The King of Hell. She called herself Amari.” 

She had looked like Lucia, except for the scar. And the eye. Her eye had been the same color as Yorugen’s. Uryū only wished he had the faintest idea what that meant. Yorugen didn’t. 

“She said that no spirit left Hell without her permission. I don’t know if that only applies to Togabito or not. Or if she has enough power left to open a Gate—she seemed drained, especially after the battle.” 

That wasn’t reassuring. He _did_ want to reassure her, but more importantly than that, he wanted to tell her the truth as he knew it. 

Her head lifted; she braced a hand on the edge of the table and used it to pull herself upright. “What else do you know?”

Uryū pushed his glasses up his nose. “Not much. It’s not like he told me anything.”

“Yeah well… he wouldn’t, would he? Damn idiot.” She scowled. 

Pulling the tea tray towards her, she poured herself a cup and downed it quickly enough that Uryū flinched. That was still fresh enough to scald. Yoruichi’s scowl became a grimace for a couple of seconds before resuming its previous state. She sighed harshly. 

“Do you want me to stay?”

Her eyes snapped to his. 

“I know you weren’t expecting this. I don’t know what you’re doing here, to prepare, but if you need my help…” Uryū trailed off. 

Yoruichi blinked at him, her expression morphing into something thoughtful. “Do you want to come back?”

He glanced away. “If it better serves our endeavors, I will.”

She huffed; it was almost a laugh. “That’s not what I asked. But… no. Kisuke told me to stick with the plan. And the plan, as far as I knew it, was to keep you in Soul Society for as long as possible. Tessai and I can handle things here.”

Uryū nodded, feeling a sense of relief he could not quite explain. “Very well.”

There was a long silence. Yoruichi rotated her teacup in her hands. “You heard about what happened on our end, right?”

“A little.” He knew Yuzu had healed Jinta, that the captains had come here without the Sōtaichō’s approval. He didn’t imagine that it would go unnoticed, even if they were only gone about a day. 

“Watch her,” Yoruichi said, quietly. There was a firmness to her tone that wasn’t usually there. “I’m not Kisuke, but I’ve known him long enough to know when even he’s surprised by something. And he was surprised by what Yuzu did. If it caught his interest, then…” She arched an eyebrow. 

Uryū frowned. “I was hoping there was some explanation for it that I just didn’t know,” he admitted. But he hadn’t missed the occasional glance the captains threw at Yuzu while they ate. It had happened a few too many times to be coincidence. 

“None that I’ve ever heard of,” Yoruichi replied. “I’m sure Unohana will address it, but that’s not the kind of thing that stays under wraps forever. It might be nothing, but it might be an issue. At the very least, if it’s a power that affects space or time, she’ll have the Central 46 to deal with. They keep a tight hold on anything like that. I don’t want her being disappeared into the Maggots’ Nest for existing.”

Uryū’s jaw tightened at the mention of that place. “I understand.”

This time, Yoruichi’s sigh was more fatigued than anything. “Good.” A pause. “Some trip back, huh?” 

Uryū allowed himself half a smile. “I didn’t go into this expecting ordinary,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, but did you expect Hell?”

He shook his head. 

“I most certainly did not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Term Dictionary_ :
> 
>  _Sajō Sabaku_ – 鎖条鎖縛 – “Locking Bondage Stripes.” Bakudō #63. Basically a rope/chain spell. Yuzu forms a chain net with it because her zanpakutō’s abilities allow her to, among other things, reshape kidō. 
> 
> _Sōren Sōkatsui_ – 双漣蒼火墜 – “Twin Lotus Blue Fire, Crash Down.” Hadō #73. An advanced form of Hadō #33, Sōkatsui. Typically used as a blasting spell, but again due to her ability to change the shape of kidō, Yuzu alters its typical form here. 
> 
> _Aoge_ – 扇げ – “Fan.” One of Hisaku’s special techniques. Using it, the flames generated by Habatake or Sakebe can be directed and controlled even after they separate from the blade. Karin controls their motion with her off-hand, though she can also use the blade itself, or, with great concentration, her mind alone. She can also spread or compress the fire for various effects. In this case, it was just a straightforward blast.
> 
>  _Tenran_ – 闐嵐 – “Orchid Sky.” Hadō #58. By spinning their zanpakutō in a rotating motion, the user generates a tornado-like blast of wind.
> 
>  _Juhaku_ – 樹白 – “White Tree.” A technique where Rukia stabs the ground, beginning a trail of ice which spreads toward her opponent and freezes anything in the way.
> 
>  _Hyapporankan_ – 百歩欄干 – “Hundred Steps Fence.” Bakudō #62. The practitioner throws a blue lance of light at the target. It multiplies into hundreds of thin columns of light, which pin the target to the nearest solid surface. 
> 
> _Jigokujō_ – 地獄錠 – “Hell Shackles.” A new bakudō seal Urahara and Amari invented for the purposes of sealing Shuren, since killing him would just result in his eventual reappearance. The spell in its initial form is a sphere of red light, which is then extended and shot as twin bolts into the _Saketsu_ (鎖結) “binding chain,” and _Hakusui_ (魄睡) “soul sleep,” the important points of spiritual power in any being. Not to be confused with _Jigokuchō_ (地獄蝶), the “hell butterfly” species.
> 
>  _Kaidō_ – 回道 – “Turn Way.” Blanket term for healing kidō, which don’t have spell names or incantations like normal kidō do.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So the scene where Yuzu purifies the chain off Jinta was inspired by a scene in the actual _Hell Verse_ movie where Yuzu, who is the one with the Hell Chain problem, just… spontaneously gets rid of it. Like… at the time no one’s doing anything; they’ve all pretty much just figured she’s a goner, and then boom, pink light, chain’s gone. The scene is actually kind of (unintentionally) funny because of the look on Byakuya’s face. So I decided that was getting incorporated into the powers of CT!Yuzu, because it’s kind of a big deal and totally not at _all_ explained. Though there is no explanation here, I have one. And it will be getting some play in _Catastrophe Theory_.
> 
> Anyway… yeah. That happened. As usual, Urahara is planning a bazillion steps ahead and taking crazy risks. And also as usual, he probably should have taken a second to explain things to his friends, but didn’t. Damn stupid genius. 
> 
> I had a request for some pieces about life in the divisions for our three new shinigami, which I am happy to do. So there will be a bits-and-bobs story up soon—and then, finally, the Winter War fic after that. Stay tuned, if you’re so inclined!


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